Somewhere Out There
by Peta2
Summary: Ed, The Governor, Woodbury...it all becomes too much for Carol and she needs to get out. Find some open space to just breathe. What happens when Carol realises that the dangers of this world are stronger inside than they are out? And how does Daryl handle being the one she turns to for help?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **It is completely foolish to start something new, but there was no getting this out of my head. The concept isn't anything too original, but hopefully the delivery will be intriguing, if nothing else. So, for now, I guess the important thing I need from you is feedback on whether I keep going or leave it alone. What do you think?

**Somewhere Out There**

It was dark outside the cell blocks. Dark and cold, and even though she knew Rick was up in the tower keeping watch, Carol still couldn't hold back that little shiver of fear from what might be hiding in the shadows. And even though the unpredictable, the unexpected almost always left her feeling terrified when the sun set, Carol had to get out and escape tonight. If she'd sat inside for just one minute longer, she had no doubts that she'd have started screaming.

She couldn't have explained what had started that building sense of panic, the one that had sent her on a dizzying run to get out of the confines of the prison, find somewhere that wasn't hemming her in within four cement walls and steel bars. All she knew, all she understood, was that staying inside, watching everyone slowly meander off to bed while there was a madman still at large outside the prison meant that she couldn't breathe.

She hadn't been on the outside for weeks. After a whole winter running from one horde of walkers to another, Carol had built up a mental resistance to inevitability. In here, she'd found hope, and now it was crushing the very life out of her. The air was different—the walkers might be outside those gates but freedom was out there as well. She felt thoroughly stupid for feeling like a convict, desperate for early release, but even out here, sitting on one of the metal bench seats as she stared into pitch black nothing, she knew it wasn't far enough. Knew it wasn't going to calm the erratic, panicked beat of her heart. She had to get out. She had to leave.

When Daryl found her she was hyperventilating, gasping for air as she slid from the seat and lounged against the cement floor.

"Christ, Carol. What the hell?"

She barely heard the crossbow clatter to the ground as he dropped to his knees, picking her up and cradling her body helplessly while she gasped for air, clawing at his arms and digging her head into his body, her own in agony as the burn from too little air had her twisting and writhing within his grip.

"Can't…can't…breathe," she stuttered helplessly and the pain in her chest exploded and she blacked out for a second, going deathly still as Daryl started shouting her name into her face and shaking her violently.

When she came to, the panic had waned with the rush of air into her lungs, but she was shaking, not like she was cold but like she was terrified. Daryl had her in his arms and he was striding back toward the prison door and suddenly she knew she couldn't go back in there, not yet, maybe not ever. How was being penned in when the Governor could sneak in, could strike at any time any safer than being outside and ready to run?

"No." Her voice cracked with dread and she started pulling on him and wriggling so violently that he had to let her go, and as soon as her feet hit the ground she was running, running away from that tomb that would see her buried as soon as she let it. She didn't realise she was so close to the fence. She slammed into it hard, falling back on her ass with the momentum, but it was enough to stun her, to still the need for flight and it gave Daryl a chance to crouch down next to her, his fingers curling around her skull and applying a small amount of pressure that soothed her faster than anything she'd ever known before.

"What's going on?" Low, husky tones caressed her heart as his fingers continued the pressure on her head, gentling until he was just stroking her hair, like keeping contact with a wounded animal.

"I need to get out of here," she whispered, the words feeling edgy, painful and raw as they left her throat. "I've been cooped up in here like a rat in a cage for weeks and I just don't feel like I can breathe anymore. I need to breathe, Daryl, an' I can't do it in there. Not tonight."

"Why's tonight so special?" There was no condemnation in his voice, and she'd be lying if she hadn't expected it. She was being stupid and she knew it, but it didn't stop the realisation surging up inside that if she took a step back into those cells, her whole being was going to shatter and they'd never put her back together. That he wasn't blaming her just reminded her who he was, a good man, the _best _man she'd ever known.

"It's not. It's just…every night I've been having this dream, and I can't sleep in that cell for another night. I can't close my eyes and see him again. I can't live through another night remembering what my life was like before all of this."

That seemed to take the wind out of his sails. Daryl dropped to the ground beside her, his thigh pressed against hers and she felt herself burn. If only this was enough to push those memories out.

"Ed? You been dreamin' about that sack of shit?"

She nodded helplessly, hot tears streaking down her cheeks. "It's stupid, I know it is. It's been so long, but I mentioned him to Beth while you…were gone…and now I can't get him out of my head. Between him and the Governor I feel like if I go back inside that prison I'm going to be buried alive." Anxiety was surging back to life inside her, tremors building rapidly so that when Carol almost threw herself into Daryl's lap, her strong fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, she was already shaking. "Please, Daryl. Take me out of here. Just for a night. Please?"

She'd never really asked him for anything before, certainly not anything that would actually benefit herself. If she wanted something—and she rarely did—she asked Glenn and Maggie. The only thing she'd ever requested from Daryl was that he stay safe, and quietly within her own head she begged him to always come back. She was glad she tacked that on silently, because something inside her broke the one time he didn't listen.

She expected him to push her out of his lap, to leave her cold and alone, but he wasn't done surprising her tonight, it seemed. Instead of pushing against her, he held her close, accepting that for now she needed him and that he had comfort to give.

"Carol, you know Rick won't allow it. It ain't safe out there after dark."

Her head dropped to his collarbone, her fists slowly opening against his shirt and her breaths were calculated and steady. Deep.

"Okay," she said and her voice was hoarse, haunted and she wondered if it had ripped through Daryl like a spear to the chest when she felt his muscles bunch against her face and hands and a shudder ripple through him. "Fine. I'll sleep out here tonight."

He hissed in annoyance, pushing himself to his feet and dragging her up with him. He still didn't push her away, and instead his hand curled hesitantly around her waist as he accepted the way she'd bound her body to his. She thought he was angry, that his patience with her was at an end, and she held him tighter because of it. She knew she was going to regret this later, when she'd had time to reflect on this crazy action of hers, when she'd had time to realise her little act of dependence would probably set them back about twenty paces. Make him run away from her further than he had when he'd left with Merle, but for now, she needed this, him, and in case she died tomorrow, she wasn't letting go until he forced her to.

He walked her back to the seat she'd been sitting on earlier, directed her so that her ass was back on it.

"Stay here while I go talk to Rick."

She could barely see him in the moonlight, just the outline of his body as he stood poised before her, seemingly about to turn but also unwilling to move. She didn't need to see his expression to know he was staring at her, the searing burn of his gaze doing nothing to settle the stirring emotions inside she felt incapable of controlling. Deciding to add another infringement to her long list, she seized the hand dangling at his side, squeezing it almost painfully. Another internal cheer that he didn't shake her grip loose, instead answering the pressure with some of his own. She was still shaking, her bottom lip wobbling as tears ran unfettered down her cheeks.

"Please hurry."

He let her go and then jogged toward the tower.

The night was so silent and yet her ears were ringing. Everything seemed so still, even the tower despite knowing two men existed inside of it. She just couldn't tamp down this panic inside her, this inherent _knowledge _that something wasn't right, that she needed to get away from this place. It wasn't that she was afraid they were about to be attacked—that if she left, her and Daryl, that they'd survive some horrible calamity. Some horrible _death_. That the others would be slaughtered, but at least not them. She wasn't worried for the rest of her people, but this urgent need to get out of this prison and into the wide open where she could breathe—even if that's where all those that could hurt them were hiding—took precedence.

She wondered how Daryl was going to respond to being alone with her out in the dark, out in the open with no Rick or Glenn to help him keep watch. How long he'd let them stay out there and what they'd do with their time while they were gone. She wasn't thinking that far, just knowing that whatever needed her attention out _there, _needed it now. She wasn't going to spend the night in her bunk, surrounded by Woodbury survivors, surrounded by her friends sleeping while she tried to live through her nightmares of an Ed come back to life, demanding she return to him and then his punishments for leaving him to die in the first place. It was all so foolish, and she was old enough now to know better than to submit to the fear of a nightmare, but it was impossible to shake off. Impossible to banish the sight of his face, surly and hateful as he looked at her like she was worthless. Every vile word and deed started to replay in her head, morphing into some faceless monster with an eye patch, and Carol was whimpering enough to give Judith a run for her money when Daryl came back. He swept past her and into the cell block, coming back ten minutes later with a pack, her knife and a gun.

He snagged her hand, gently tugging her upright and she swayed on her feet, emotional exhaustion and too many nights of little sleep kicking in. He didn't say a word as he led her to the Hyundai. She hesitated as he passed the bike and she could feel the shrug of his shoulders as it flowed through his body down to her hand.

"Wanna make sure walkers can't pull you off the bike if we get stuck. Safer in the car, 'specially if we can't find nowhere to hold up for the night."

If she hadn't been a little in love with Daryl Dixon before, his thoughtfulness for her safety clinched it for her then. More tears squeezed past her useless defences, her stomach feeling weak and hollow. She was wrung out, pressing him to take her out and do something completely foolish, putting them both in danger, and yet he was willingly doing it—doing whatever it took to make her feel safe and whole again.

Her every action now seemed impulse driven. They'd made that kind of progress, she figured, where showing him how she felt was easier than words now. He'd not pushed her away earlier, he'd initiated the touch of their hands now. Carol was suddenly buoyed up with more confidence than she'd ever had in regards to Daryl. She pressed the palm of her hand against his cheek, his whiskers scratching her flesh as her hand shook. "Thank you."

He nodded his reply, opening the door of the Hyundai for her, then closed it once she was in.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Firstly I want to say how enormously grateful I am to the response to the first chapter. I realise it was a little dark, a little unusual, and this chapter is a tad lighter. Don't settle in too hard, though, I don't intend for it to stay that way.

I also want to make mention of another fic I've been reading on the site called The Man I Am by Tahllydarling. So far, other than one other review, I am the only person who has reviewed it. This is a good fic…please go and give it a chance and reward people that can actually write well and in a compelling manner? It can be so disheartening to get such a lack of response and I'd for her to think her writing is bad.

Now, on with the show….and, well, if you feel so inclined, I kind of like reviews too. I definitely _love _hearing what you think and to know someone is making the effort to read and think about it.

Chapter Two

Carol couldn't even look at Rick as he left the tower to open the gate for them. Her eyes were locked on Daryl's jaw so she saw the tip of his head in acknowledgement of their leader, then his thumb as it strayed too close to his teeth and he started chewing at the jagged skin that never, ever seemed smooth. She was still shaking as she lifted her hand and tried to swat his hand out of his mouth.

"Don't do that," she told him, her voice wavering and weak. "You'll make it bleed."

"Hey, you got your nervous habits and I got mine. Did ya hear me tell you to stop havin' a panic attack?" He grinned at her and Carol was grateful that it was close to a full moon so she could see his face and the many emotions he'd flit through until he found a safe one he was happy enough for her to see.

She tried to smile, but now that they were travelling slowly over the bumpy dirt drive out of the prison, new tears stung at her eyes.

"No," she conceded, feeling more miserable than when she'd first flung herself out of the cell block. "You saved me again, as usual."

He flicked a wary glance her way and Carol bunched up against her door, wishing she could make herself say they should go back instead of leading him out of safety for something so foolish as her being unable to go back inside.

"Wouldn't you do the same for me?"

That made her sit up straight. There was no question she'd lay down her life for his, if that's what it took. She couldn't say that with equal certainty regarding any other member of their group, as much as she loved them all, but she could for him. Telling him, though, might be too much touchy feely than she guessed Daryl could handle, and after months of making it plain to him she found him attractive with all her suggestive teasing, she wasn't willing to put her heart any more on the line and have it smashed to pieces. She'd be more humiliated by him knowing how she truly felt about him than she was letting him see her completely meltdown over a stupid dream about Ed, of all people.

The quiet was stretching toward discomfort and Carol could feel the car slowing, Daryl's incredulous gaze swivelling toward her. He needed an answer and the words were all fumbling around in her head. "You never need saving, so it's not an issue."

"That's bullshit." A harsh breath was expelled from his lungs and then a humourless bark of laughter hung in the air like stale smoke, leaving Carol with a sense that she'd somehow deeply hurt his feelings. "You think I wanted to come back after I found Merle? After I had to kill my own brother?"

Remembering that night was painful—as much for her as she thought it absolutely was for Daryl. It hadn't been at all hard to hold him all night while his heart broke and then scrambled to put itself back together again before continuing their fight with the Governor. Seeing his pain and not being able to control how much of it ate her up inside, that was where the difficulty lay. That was where she was torn open and vulnerable, and yet she'd dealt with it as Daryl clung to her body through the night, his wet face pressed into her throat as she rocked him and held him toward sleep. She'd have been more broken if he'd sought comfort from anyone else but her.

"I…I just thought—"

"Forget it. It don't matter none." He _was _angry. It was unmistakable now and Carol didn't have the first clue how to diffuse the situation. He couldn't stay mad or their danger would escalate while they were out here, driving around aimlessly in the dark, the car's headlights possibly attracting who knew which threat to them first.

"Yes." The single word squeezed past numb lips, her heart in her throat. "If you need saving, I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you're safe." The confession tumbled from a throat that felt like it had been slashed raw, emotion clogging it closed now so she couldn't speak even if she wanted to. Unsteady, confused oceanic blue eyes trailed to his face, watched as incredibly he blinked rapidly and swallowed hard, but the hurt was vanquished enough to leave him with that small, barely there smirk she recognised and adored.

"Good."

The confessions were hard for him, too.

They drove for two hours and the whole time Carol felt dread buzz away within. Guilt ate her up. The fuel. They were wasting so much of it simply because she needed to get away from the Woodbury people, from the people she'd spent the last year surviving with, from the ghosts that haunted her home. Merle hid in there now, alongside Lori and T-Dog, and she felt just as guilty and sorry for his loss as she did for the others. She'd goaded him that last day. Made him choose and probably ended up pushing him away even more. Questioned the extent of his loyalty to his brother when he couldn't commit to the same people that Daryl had. Merle was there for Daryl, and Daryl was there for them. What she hadn't said and she should have, regretted now with a billowing ache in her soul, was that Daryl was there for Merle, too, and that Merle's life mattered to them now, because he mattered to Daryl. God, she'd screwed it all up so spectacularly, and she'd caused such an awful loss to the one man she'd do anything for. Hindsight was always cruel, and she was getting sick to death of all the loss their decisions cost them. When were they going to start making the ones that meant they stopped losing the people they loved?

When did existing alongside a group of people that were once strangers not that long ago become the people that meant the most? Did she really love them or was it just the natural result of being stuck with people you'd never have chosen under normal circumstances.

Carol's gaze rolled over Daryl's profile, watching the moonlight reflect off his cheekbones, and wondered while her heart fluttered a strange, syncopated beat. Would she have loved him if she'd met him before all of this? If she'd stumbled upon him in any other circumstance than braving the end of the world, if Sophia had never been lost, would he have made her feel like she was the most important person in the world? Would he have ever let himself be her friend if Merle still lived? Or was it all just a cruel joke that the world played on them now, leaving them cramped with groups of people they'd never have associated with in another lifetime?

It didn't matter. Whether her emotions and feelings had been manipulated by the existence of walkers, it meant nothing. It was what it was, and Daryl was there, beside her and taking her away from the place and people that were causing her anxiety. He was giving her the chance to breathe and that made him more special to her than anything else she had left. That made him the most real person she knew.

"Where are we going?"

"Nowhere special. Just drivin'."

_Oh._

It suddenly hurt to breathe for a whole different reason. How selfless his decisions were. It took everything she had to accept he'd do this for a friend when she'd long wished for so much more. In another man, such a devotion to giving her what she needed would have reeked of love, but for Daryl it meant a depth of friendship she believed he'd been previously unfamiliar with. It made her heart ache for the pure beauty of its meaning, and so she let go of those wishes for more and allowed herself to relish this as being the precious thing it was.

"Aren't you tired? You want to find a place to sleep or just drive around all night?" She was worried about him not resting. None of them had had much sleep lately, and now with new people crowded into their space, it stupidly seemed harder than ever. Carol found the possibility of a stranger watching her sleep infinitely confronting, wishing not for the first time for a proper room with a solid door and a lock so she could shut the rest of the world out when she needed to. She had a whole new respect for prisoners. It was a cruel punishment that their every move was so easily viewable—even though she knew the necessity in their case, it was hard to think anyone could ever grow accustomed enough to be fine with it. And if she wasn't, she didn't mistakenly think Daryl was either.

"Yeah, we should rest somewhere. What do you want to do tomorrow?"

What did she want to do? Like they were out sightseeing, vacationing like a real couple. Carol's heart started racing without her permission.

"Can we go shopping? I'm in dire need of a new dress and matching shoes."

Daryl snorted before side-eyeing her. "You got somewhere classy you need to be I don' know about?"

"Obviously you've fallen out of the loop, Dixon. We're hosting a wedding soon enough. I want to wear a dress I can swirl in."

She could see his eyes widen at that as he darted another look her way. She wondered why when they could barely see each other in the dark. "Why would you be wantin' to swirl?"

"Dancing, Daryl. One must dance at a wedding. God, I miss dancing. Haven't done that in a really long time."

"Yeah? I ain't never done that. Might need lessons."

Carol had the distinct impression that he might be blushing, her guess taking root as he nervously started chewing at the ragged skin around his thumb again.

"I can do that," Carol offered quietly, wanting to kick herself for being completely unable to hide the husky strain of longing from her voice.

"I'll warn you now, I've likely got two left feet."

Carol wasn't able to hold back her laughter. "Oh, please. You're more graceful than those deer you hunt."

"Good Lord, the things you say, woman. I don't know if I should be offended or—"

"It was a compliment, Daryl. I'm not the only woman who notices how good you look when you move."

That confession might have been a bit much but fortunately Daryl responded by intently watched the road, diligently ignoring the implications of what she'd said, his gaze darting around searching for movement as they came to a short street sparsely lined with buildings. He travelled the length of it before pulling off the road and driving up behind what looked like a feed store. He parked and turned off the engine and lights, telling her to stay put while he took up his crossbow and flashlight. Feeling sick still about what she'd just revealed, Carol nodded and then didn't move a muscle, keeping her expression as neutral as she could even though her heart was thudding expectantly.

The silence was deafening. The potential for noise just barely sat there, slightly out of reach, and Carol wrapped her arms around herself and waited, said silent prayers that Daryl would be fine, that her foolish needs hadn't left him outside stranded in the dark amongst a group of walkers.

When her door was yanked wide open, she almost shrieked. Daryl shone the flashlight inside the car and then held it under his chin, Blair Witch-style, rolling his eyes at her and she realised he'd kept it off as he'd returned to the car and was enjoying the fright he'd given her.

"You ass," she hissed as she took a not-so-gentle swipe at his chest, twisting in her seat about to get out.

"Yeah, but you love me anyway."

Carol remained silent, shock stealing her words, obliterating her senses.

"Think we can bunk down inside that store for now. Don't see nothin' about so we should be safe so long as we keep quiet."

She could keep quiet. She could keep very quiet. In fact, Carol wasn't so sure she should open her mouth ever again because every time either one of them said something, her hopes grew. Hope was a dangerous commodity these days, and she hadn't been lying about seeing the new Woodbury women making eyes at him. She had to remind herself that he'd left the confines of the prison for _her, _gone against Rick's natural wishes and concerns for their safety for _her, _and as hard as it was to believe he felt more for her than friendship, she had no doubt in her heart at all that he'd not do the same for any other member of the group.

While she stood unsteadily waiting for him, he gathered supplies from the car—blankets that were always left there in case they ever got stranded, bottles of water and his pack that he'd brought from the prison. He handed her the blankets and led the way to the door of the supply shed in the back, his crossbow held aloft, ready in case a surprise stumbled out moaning and hungry for them. He'd already broken into the shed, doing a second search to double-check they were alone before he closed it and barred it with a few sacks of grain, Carol holding the torch so he could see what he was doing. There was a big window next to the door and she kept an eye to the outside, trying to detect any suspicious shadows. There was nothing. For all she knew they could be the only two people in the world, definitely the only two people in this tiny town, in this storage shed.

"Hey, best turn that off now so no one can see the light from outside."

Of course. She clicked the torch off and reached for Daryl in the dark, snagging his jacket sleeve, her hand boldly sweeping down to capture his hand so she could place the torch there for him to put in his pack.

"I can keep watch if you want to get some rest," Carol said, gasping when Daryl took a step closer to her, seized her hand back in his grip and tripped his way to a space on the floor he'd found clear earlier.

"Long as we stay quiet and don't go flashing lights around, we should be fine. Come on, spread those blankets out."

Carol shook one out on the floor for them to lie on, not wanting to risk sleeping on whatever littered the surface beneath their feet, and then plopped down beside Daryl, giving the other blanket a quick flick to open it up to cover them. She remained sitting, nervous about being so close to him in the dark. Everything seemed so much more electric when she couldn't see, so much more real, so much more potential. Possible.

Her pulse jumped as she heard him detach his knife and let it tumble to the floor beside his crossbow and pack. She heard him recline to his back, sucked in a startled breath when his hand closed around hers, prying her death grip from the edge of the blanket, then curling his warm palm around her waist and tugging her down to lay beside him. She landed on his arm and went perfectly still, leaving Daryl to place the blanket around the pair of them. He did nothing to remove his arm from around her shoulders, instead tightening it around her and pulling her inward, flush against the hard length of his body. The leather of his vest cooled her suddenly hot cheek and before she knew what she was doing, her fingers curled into the other side of it, grasping it so tight she didn't think she'd ever let him go.

"You scared me tonight. Ain't never seen you like that before." His breath tussled her hair and Carol sighed, sinking further into him and grasping at everything he was willing to give her, registering his concern and belatedly wishing she hadn't worried him as much as she had.

"Haven't had a panic attack for a while," she confided, remembering the last one when Ed had been pounding on her and then had made a move to find Sophia. She'd lost control of herself then, had thrown herself in front of him, striking _him _with her weak little fist, then tried not to die as he really laid into her. "Kind of funny that they're caused by extreme stress and it took an overcrowded prison instead of herds of walkers to make me lose it."

"Yeah, well, told you it was a tomb."

"An' I told you it's our home. I meant it, you know. We're safe there—"

"Which is why you were nearly pissin' yourself to get out of there," he scoffed. "An' why you were in such a hurry to get out here."

She sighed. How could she explain this crunching, grinding dread that overwhelmed her head, telling her she had to get out—that there was something she had to _find _out beyond those prison gates? Something she had to _do?_

"I can't explain why." The words came out brittle, mumbled into his chest yet so clear he didn't have to bend closer to hear them. He bent closer anyway. Carol had never been physically closer to him than she was now, not even when they'd rode away from the farm together on his bike. Not even when he'd carried her out of that cold, dark place where she thought she was going to die. Without realising it her leg had somehow tangled around his as she clung to him. He turned on his side, facing her, his other hand splayed across her hip. Her lids fell closed as her senses were overwhelmed, her lips parting slightly to be moistened nervously with her tongue, only to be dried by his breath so close to her face.

"I feel like we're waitin' for something," she admitted breathlessly, heat and want bursting to life deep in her belly.

"Well it ain't gonna be a party dress and stilettos." In the dark his nose brushed against hers and Carol gasped, so hungry for more, for the taste of his mouth on hers but too afraid to take that final step. Her fingers dug through his vest into his back, fear flagging her every impulse to run when her heart just wanted desperately for her to fall that final distance.

In the charged quiet between them, she realised Daryl's breathing had slowed and evened out and she grinned. Here she was, burning up with need to touch him, and he was so resistant to her goodies that he was falling asleep.

"Go'sleep, woman. Can hear you thinkin' all the way over here." His nose bumped against hers again and Carol sucked in a painful breath. What if…

"There's barely a hair's breadth between us." She wiggled forward a fraction, but the almost torturously hesitant peck she worked herself up to, finally fell on relaxed, unresisting, unresponsive lips. She was too late. Daryl was asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Wow! I am so humbled by your response to this little fic. I know people loved the little easy conversation they were developing and I hope that continues in places. This chapter is Daryl, so maybe that's why it isn't so easy, LOL. Anyway, would LOVE to know if you are still enjoying, or want more, and even welcome suggestions ;) Happy reading! Now I'm going to have some lunch. One more day till school holidays!

Chapter Three

He awoke with Carol curled fully into his body, her head burrowed into his chest, her leg wedged between his and her hand tucked into the waist of his pants—underneath his shirt. Her fingers seared his flesh and sent blood rushing to his dick. If she flexed her fingers she just might reach the tip of it. It was a fight not to move—he wanted to move. Not to get up and run away from her, but to shuffle closer and take things to a new place.

He wasn't sure when things had switched on in his head. When that moment finally occurred when he knew he and Carol were something beyond whatever he was with Glenn, or Rick or Maggie. He wanted to do more than just talk to her—he wanted to take her pain and banish it, he wanted to make her smile and laugh, and he wanted to show her that he cherished every selfless moment where she put him ahead of everyone in their group, including herself. He wanted to taste her and know if she was as sweet as he suspected. He wanted to bury himself in her heat and he wanted to reply to just one of her embarrassing jokes with confidence and assurance. He wanted _her_ and he was tired of waiting for something to happen. Tired of waiting to discover enough courage to kick him in the ass and force his hand.

He'd sensed, when he'd found her struggling to breathe outside their cell block, that she was feeling the same noose strangling the life out of her that he did, only he'd so far managed to put a braver face to it. He hadn't wanted Rick to bring all the remnants of Woodbury home with them—didn't know why they couldn't have just left Tyreese and Karen to look after them and form their own new community without their former nutjob leader there to taint their progress. So many extra bodies were a strain on their resources, a strain on their emotions, and it meant that there was just about nowhere left in the place where a body could escape for a bit of peace and quiet. It wasn't hard to decide not to argue when Carol said she needed to get out, needed to leave. The call of the world beyond the prison fences was a strong one, and Daryl couldn't deny that the opportunity for them to be out on the road together, even if just for a couple of days, held its own appeal. Offered him a chance to make things right between them without the group staring at his every move. Without judgement and unwanted advice being shunted at him from all directions.

Without those other women who'd apparently noticed how good he looked when he moved, watching and waiting to see who he'd choose. As far as he was concerned, he'd chosen long ago, she just didn't know it yet.

He grinned a little at that. He knew she hadn't meant to reveal that she watched him so closely, but knowing that she did made him blush. It had been a very long time since he'd wondered what a woman thought of him—probably not since high school if he was honest. Women had been a mystery that he'd been uninterested in unravelling, learning far more than he cared to just from observing Merle whenever he was around, and when he wasn't, well, he still had his daddy to deal with. Unlike Merle, he'd never managed to escape the bastard, still living and hunting with the man that had cheated him of a normal life until the walkers had risen up and taken a well-deserved bite out of him.

Now, he _was _wondering what it was about him that Carol watched. What it was about him that drew her to him. He was nothing special, had little to offer, but he wasn't such a fool to turn her away if she wanted him—not when he wanted her so fiercely he thought he could shatter from the waiting.

It was a mystery to him what she saw in him, but not one for what he saw in her. No one had ever fought for him before, and she seemed to be constantly in battle in an effort to defend him, protect him, shelter him, teach him. Love him. It had all finally come together to complete the circle in his mind and he felt like there was no more waiting left in him. No more reason to keep his distance. It was time to man up. He could never be what she deserved, but at least he could be a step up from Ed Peletier, and he could protect her and hopefully make her happy. For whatever time they had left.

It took a Herculean force of will to shift her off his body and when her fingers got twisted in his waistband before he managed to slide them out, his own face contorted in excruciating pain. God, he wanted her. Wanted to know what her hand would feel like gripping him. Wanted to know if the wet, raspy surface of her tongue would tip him over the edge. The thought alone had him close enough.

He paused as he rolled, his face so close to hers, his lips barely a breath away from her mouth. He couldn't risk her waking up in the middle of a kiss, though. That would be humiliating beyond reason. If he was going to get his shit together and do this, he was going to do it right. Maybe after they'd found that dress and shoes she was so interested in getting for the wedding.

Night had lifted enough now that he could make out more shapes in the shed around him. No matter where they were, they always sought out weapons. There had to be some knives in there, something used for cutting open the sacks of meal. As the space lightened up even more he found several, and even a small machete. He collected them together and left them near his pack, gathering up his crossbow to take a quick look outside. First, he bent down and hesitantly curled his hand around Carol's shoulder, shaking her gently.

Still half asleep, she moaned happily, a sweet smile curving her lips as her hand reached up to link her fingers with his. She kissed his knuckles and he sucked in a surprised breath. Maybe he shouldn't have been so hasty to get moving.

"'Mornin', Daryl."

He dropped to his knees beside her as she rolled onto her back, blinking up at him as he continued to hold her hand.

"'Mornin', sleepyhead." He cracked a grin, encouraged by how easy it was to be with her, how easy it was to feel her hand entwined with his. He tugged on it, making her sit up. "I'm gonna go take a look around outside, see if there's anything worth taking before we move on."

Carol nodded, then slowly untangled their fingers and stretched both arms up over her head, knees drawn up to her chest and arching backwards. She reminded him of a cat, all sleek lines and lazy grace and he wanted to bury his face in her neck and nuzzle her flesh with his teeth. He stood up fast and turned away, a flush working its way to an inferno beneath the skin.

"Be right back." Making quick work of the sacks propped against their exit, he slipped out into the early morning and sucked in several deep breaths, fresh, biting air filling his lungs. He smiled. It felt good to wake up beside her, sharing his first words of the day with someone who cared that he was around. Sure, the whole group valued him, cared about him, but when Carol looked at him he could tell there was something different. Something deeper that she felt that the others didn't. It warmed him from the inside out and he was going to do something about it so she knew he felt it, too.

He hadn't seen much the night before when he'd pulled into this place. Standing along the main road now he was surprised he'd seen enough to even stop. There were maybe five buildings scattered along the road before it continued on to better things. The supply store and storage shed behind it where they'd slept, what looked like a school house, a doctor's surgery—old-fashioned-like with the doctor's name carved onto a wooden shingle that hung along a dainty picket fence, a gardening supplies store, and a bar. A bar in the middle of nowhere. Daryl chuckled at how typical that was. Before he'd even crossed to it he could see there was no point going inside. The place was thoroughly looted while the doctor's house seemed untouched. Good to see assholes around had the right priorities. Daryl shook his head before heading straight to the house, cringing as the front gate squeaked open. Two elderly walkers turned to greet him the second he broke through the front door and then he knew no one else had been there. He took them out cleanly, one with an arrow to the brain and the other felt the slide of his blade as it sank through a soft eye socket. They thumped to the floor and he quickly stepped over them, careful to watch they didn't reanimate and start snapping at his heels. It wasn't like Rick was there to hack off his foot if he needed him to. The very thought of being restricted to crutches to get around made him shudder. They'd be damned if he was hamstringed like that. He'd be useless, not able to hunt, to fight.

He went to the kitchen first, found a box of granola bars unopened at the very top of an empty pantry. He needed a chair to reach it, explaining why the old couple had managed to polish off everything else they'd stashed away and leaving this and a forgotten mousetrap with a handful of other useless pieces of crap so high up they couldn't reach. Seemed a strange thing to make it up to that shelf, considering the other things. He took the pack of matches and a bottle of kerosene and as he rooted around the cupboards and drawers he found a squeeze ketchup bottle that might be useful as well as more knives. Never knew when a good Wiltshire would come in handy. He raided the bathroom, grinning in delight at the stock of toothbrushes the old couple had hoarded, though he left their denture paste where it sat with a grimace. He barely glanced in the bedroom, only thinking once he'd found the doctor's office that maybe the old man had clothes Hershel would love, shrugging and forgetting about it as soon as he found the cupboard sorted with samples, testing kits, bandages and a bag that contained all standard doctor implements—a stethoscope, the little light thing for checking pupils…more shit that Daryl had no clue what they did but figured Hershel probably would.

He'd barely finished packing everything into a medium-sized bag he'd found in the cupboard when he heard the unmistakable rumble of a truck's engine as it rolled slowly down the street. With a hunter's grace, he sidled up to the window and peered through the sliver of a gap. His stomach dropped like a rock and his blood ran cold. He knew the driver. Martinez pressed his foot on the gas and the truck jolted forward, but not far enough, stopping just short of the end of the road before it continued on toward an uncertain destination.

Daryl swore under his breath as three men exited the truck. That black prick who had tried to take his crossbow back at Woodbury, cocky, overconfident Martinez and the fucker of all fuckers, the Governor himself. Daryl narrowed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to leave his hiding spot and beat the shit out of his brother's murderer. It's what Merle would do, damn the consequences. It was remembering those consequences that held Daryl back now, forcing him to think.

He was stuck on the wrong side of the road. Carol was back with their car at the supply shed, probably unaware of their sudden danger, and while the Governor and his men were at the very end of the street walking their way back, Daryl had already done the math. There were only five buildings for them to investigate, three if they skipped the bar like he had and the doctor's where he now stood. They'd find her in minutes—and then his imagination went into meltdown. He had to force himself not to picture her dying as that monster shot her like he had Merle, leaving Daryl to put her down like he'd been forced to before. Fought himself to not imagine the filthy pricks laying their hands on her, or worse.

Lifting the bag, he ran for the back door, thanking God for small mercies when it cracked open noiselessly. He clung to the side of the house, his crossbow shouldered while he flicked the safety off his revolver.

There was no way he could get across the road and back to Carol without them seeing him. Adrenaline spiked and pumped through his body and a sudden sweat settled against his skin. He hadn't known this level of fear since he'd been pitched against Merle in a battle to the death in Woodbury's arena. This time he feared for Carol, and while he watched Martinez stand in the middle of the street, his high-powered rifle slung casually across his shoulder and his preferred baseball bat making graceful arcs in the air, he felt like kicking his own ass for not taking the risk and kissing her when he'd had the chance.

He rocked on his feet, panicked gaze darting back and forth trying to find some avenue of escape. He could hear their voices as they stood out in front of the bar, talking out a plan for checking the rest of the place. Leaving was now urgent and Daryl scowled, coming up empty on ideas. They were too far away for him to take aim, though the idea of shooting the Governor right in his other eye was a pleasure Daryl thought might do him for life.

He was sure they were going to pass right by the bar, seeing it as a waste of time like he had, but the dumb bastards kicked the door in anyway, their leader sauntering his way in like the arrogant asshole he was, and Daryl almost laughed when he came backing out fast and a swarm of at least fifteen walkers stumbled out the doors after him. The chaos allowed him to slip across the road and he wasted no time getting behind the supply store to the shed around the back. Carol was packed, throwing the blankets and his pack in the back from the front seat when he sprinted to the car and jumped in.

"Put the belt on," he hissed at her, frantically starting the car and flooring the accelerator as she clicked it into place. Her saw her hands were white as she readied the gun he handed to her and a white hot rage tore through him. She couldn't start shooting—she'd be hit for sure. He wasn't losing her now. "New plan," he decided as the car jumped from the grass onto tarmac, wide, furious eyes watching him as the car barrelled to an escape through the walkers still fighting the Governor and his men. Daryl counted two walkers left and knew they'd be in their truck and after them straight away. "Get on the floor."

Carol stared at him, not understanding and he almost shoved her there himself when the first gunshot blew out the back window.

"Get the fuck on the floor now," he growled, then concentrated on their escape as best he could.

He was going too fast, watching trees whizz by at a blur but even as he slumped down in his seat, he could hear the truck behind him, not gaining but then the bullets that rained down on them made that not so important. Soon they'd blow out the tires or the fuel tank and they'd either go up in a ball of flames or crash, leaving them both dead or incapacitated. Right, accelerate it was. He pushed the car to its limit, a quick glance in the rear-view showing they were making some headway, but if they had any chance at all he had to get them off the road. They had to get into the woods.

It took too long for them to drive enough ahead that the bullets no longer hit the flimsy metal of the car, and he knew it wasn't going to be long enough to pull off and hide before their enemy blew through. He was going so fast he could barely see the options, but when he saw a driveway into a motel, he swung a hard right and cursed at the spray of gravel that might be indicative to their pursuers.

"Get the pack. Hurry." He slammed on the brakes and the car skidded violently, mounting the cement slab outside one of the motel rooms.

Carol was up and out the door, grabbing up his pack and the blankets and trying to stuff some bottles of water in there before he grabbed her arm and the doctor's bag, crossbow slung over his shoulder, and dragged her around the side of the building. He just hoped they'd not see the gravel torn up at the entrance or the discarded car in the parking lot, though he figured it would be hard to miss once they drove in and saw it mounted like it was and almost ploughing into the room. They just needed time, just minutes to disappear before the Governor's truck circled back to discover their car and come in after them.

He didn't have time to try and camouflage their escape. The only thing he was confident about was the woods, so with a last, longing look at the vehicle, he grabbed Carol's hand and led her between the trees.


	4. Chapter 4

AN…I am on my way to a doctor's appointment so, against my better judgement, I am going to post this now and fix it when I get home. It hasn't had a third read through, so if you pick anything up, please let me know. I promise to reply to reviews when I get back. Hope you all enjoy this and an ENORMOUS thank you to all of you, especially the new faces I've never seen with my other fics, for reviewing and following and faving. You make it all worthwhile and so much more fun than just writing for myself!

Chapter Four

They ran. They ran so fast that Carol's lungs hurt and her muscles screamed at her to stop. Daryl never let go of her hand, half dragging her when her pace slowed, and she kept quiet. Kept silent despite the gasps for air she couldn't control, refusing to cry out when branches whipped her face, when she slid precariously on the leaves of the forest floor and she felt the muscles in her ankle loosen. His grip was tight, non-negotiable and Carol at least was confident that he wasn't going to let go. No matter how this ended, he was going to be by her side. That made her heart ache. She didn't have time to think, only react, so even though the scenery flew past way too fast, she stumbled as swiftly after him as her body would allow.

The first walkers that they encountered they tore past, Daryl rasping a warning over his shoulder. "Don't kill 'em. Downed walkers'll lead the bastards right to us." The walkers stumbled after them, but Daryl had pulled her away from them and onward before they even got close.

Her lungs were burning, her arms and face raw and bloody when Daryl veered sharply to the right, dropped to his thigh without warning and slid down an incline, his arms braced to catch her as she fell after him. He rolled and dug his heels into the earth to stop their wild tumble, breathing heavily as he quickly surveyed the scene. A stump sprouting out of the earth beside a slab of slate hid a small alcove in the dirt and without speaking, Daryl shoved her beneath it, taking the bags and his crossbow and covering them the best he could with sticks and leaves before doing what he could to eradicate the obvious signs of their fall. He lifted a few downed, rotten tree branches and dragged them behind him, swishing the leafy section lightly to make the floor look as untouched by human boots as possible. Carol watched him in awe, momentarily forgetting how terrified she was, how horrified that her moment of weakness at the prison had led them to this. Led them to their likely deaths. Instead she saw a man who _knew _what to do, how to survive against such deadly odds and she was convinced he hadn't learnt it from some survivalist channel. He was confident, self-assured, lethal when he was forced to be and she loved him so deeply it almost wounded her. They were in this mess because of her, because of a panic attack over Ed. God, he should kill her, not protect her.

The crashing sounds of their pursuers were not too far away now and Daryl dived into the opening where Carol kneeled, waiting for him. It was a squeeze and the only way he could work it was to wiggle in underneath her and hold her braced against his chest. He covered the opening with the branches and Carol tried to block out the sounds outside and concentrate instead on his obvious struggle to control his breathing as he pressed her face against his heart. The heart that was thumping almost out of his chest.

Their enemy drew closer and Daryl seized her hand, seemingly absorbing Carol's quivering body into his own as he squeezed her tight. He'd get them out of this…somehow. She had a confidence in him that he'd never had in himself, a belief in his skills and his intelligence that he'd strived to hide from them with an unwillingness to ever step forward, to follow rather than lead, even after spending a year nearly living beneath each other's skin. It was hard to hide something like this, and mostly the group knew but allowed him to keep thinking he had them fooled. It probably wasn't a fair joke that the rest of them shared—he'd act crazy if he suspected that they knew exactly who and what he was—but it was one that had certainly brought him closer to them all in a shorter space of time than he'd have allowed if he'd stuck to being himself.

She felt sick.

Trying not to suck hysterical, ragged breaths into her aching lungs, Carol rode out the tight cramps and the heaving of her stomach. She wasn't used to this kind of activity on an empty belly—it had been a while since they'd been on the run and unable to put a sustaining breakfast into their stomachs before they'd properly started the day. God, they should be still at the prison, she should be preparing breakfast for the group and trying not to feel frantic at how much food was dwindling away since their newest Woodbury members had claimed a place within the prison walls.

She needed to think about something else, not the feet that were thundering above them, slowing, kicking around the foliage like they were looking for tracks. Like they knew how to find _their _tracks. Daryl put more pressure into his hold and her stomach squeezed spasmodically. The last thing she wanted to do right now was puke all over him, and so Carol willed her mind to divert its focus away from being sick to something else, something that didn't terrify the life out of her. Almost instantly she registered exactly where she was, her body fully pliant against Daryl's for the first time and, with a will of its own, her body wiggled. His hand clamped down hard on her hip and her stomach experienced another sensation, completely unrelated to the first. Butterflies and heat, and the distinct jabbing of an unfamiliar object. Unfamiliar…but contemplated. A finger slowly but insistently tapped against her chin and she looked up at him, careful to not jar anything or cause any noise.

His grip on her hip squeezed tight and Carol fought valiantly to keep her eyes on his instead of letting them fall shut. She wanted to move, to shuffle upwards so the hard part of him making itself known against the tender flesh of her abdomen could slot into a better spot, but the urgent flare of something in his eyes stopped everything, including her breath. His lips moved and she shifted focus.

"Don't. Move," he mouthed and the physical predicament they were in with each other fell from her mind as fear over the very real danger suspended above their heads kicked in. The finger that had tapped against her chin became a hand cupping her jaw as he encouraged her head back against his chest, and together, they waited.

"Shit," they heard from above and Carol's heart rate picked up triple time. "Can you hear anything? Which way you think they went?"

"They can't be too far ahead of us," said a voice and even though she'd never met him, never even laid eyes on him, Carol knew immediately this was the fearsome Governor. The man who wasn't a man, but pure evil incarnate for how he wanted to flush them out and kill them like diseased rats.

"We got no way of tracking them, though. They could be anywhere."

"Not anywhere," Phillip refuted calmly, and in her mind's eye Carol could picture him standing above them, his one eye scanning the woods and trying to think like a Dixon. She almost scoffed out loud. As if he ever could. This man might think himself a genius in warfare, in survival, but he had nothing on Daryl. And in this element, nothing on Merle, either.

"If we had Merle here we'd find them," someone joked, and Carol almost sobbed aloud at how Daryl's body tensed at the remorseless mention of his brother.

"Yes," drawled Phillip, a smile more than evident in his tone. "Merle definitely had his uses. I miss him."

Daryl's grip on her hip became excruciating and Carol inched her own hand over to cover his, trying to pry his fingers loose and take the pressure away, not liking so much the reality of the bruise that would probably be left there for later, but understanding it anyway. She needed to distract him before his temper broke beyond his bounds of control, and so she did exactly what he told her _not _to do; she moved. In fact, she wriggled, heat blasting through her system fast and furious as his erection hardened into her stomach and jabbed away all her earlier concerns about being sick. It was so thoroughly inappropriate but God, did it feel so good.

There was a sudden stillness to Daryl that Carol recognised as shock, but she'd achieved what she'd wanted—to distract him from the evil words uttered above them, words designed to draw a vengeance-bound brother out so that they could probably put him down in the same way they had Merle. Carol shuddered, wondering if the plan might be to leave Daryl to turn, and take her out like Andrea had been, locked in a room with a dead friend. Daryl took her shudder to mean something else, she guessed, when his hand slid away from her hip entirely, finding no resistance as it moved up inside her shirt and he traced a sensual line up the length of her spine. His fingers settled over her bra clasp and he applied a gentle pressure, pushing her chest into his as he deliberately bucked his hips.

Carol was shaking with the desire to move, to forget where she was and let sensation take her over. This was the most he'd ever given her, the first clue she had that he might feel something for her that matched her own emotions. His timing was deplorable.

"So, what do we do? Do we go back?"

"No!" The denial was spoken so harshly, effused with such hatred that Carol pushed herself up to catch Daryl's eyes, both of them sharing a fearful look. "We will search these woods until that redneck is found, and when we do find him, he's going to suffer the same way as his turn coat of a brother."

"And what about the woman who was with him?"

There was a pause, but Carol wasn't listening anymore. Her heart was pounding with desperate fear, filling with so much blind hatred she could taste it on her tongue. Anyone who threatened Daryl had just made her shit list. Daryl's finger settled against her lips, a subtle warning to not make a sound, but it moved to wipe away her tears as they flowed down her cheeks, her vision of him shimmering as she silently cried. She was going to make these sons of bitches pay—for killing Merle, for killing Andrea, and for making the seriously vital mistake of threatening the life of the one man she'd die for.

"In this world it's kill or be killed, and any woman stupid enough to hang out with a Dixon deserves to be killed by one. She can watch him die and then he can do the job for us."

The silence above them was loaded with uncertainty and Carol wondered if maybe this threat didn't exactly settle easily with the other two men accompanying the Governor.

"Is there a problem with my decision, gentleman?" His tone was icy now, measured and Carol's tears dried up instantly, feeling the shift in the air as if it was descending into a whole new level of terror. She'd known it all along that this man was a psychopath, but now she _felt _it deep in her marrow.

"No. No, of course not. Just thought you might consider taking her with us. It's been a while, you know…"

"Would you really want to sully yourselves with a woman who obviously thinks nothing of sharing her bed with the likes of Merle and his brother?" He paused, his voice cocky and dripping in revulsion. "I didn't think so." They didn't answer out loud, so Carol imagined their heads shaking the denial and she screwed her face up in distaste. She looked at him in time to see Daryl's eyes narrowed at her and straight away worried he thought she was disgusted at the implication she'd lower herself to being a Dixon bed warmer when what she was really turned off by were the subservient idiots making this Governor believe he was more than he was. Being careful to not move too fast, carefully trying to not jostle their surrounds enough to make any noise, Carol lifted her hand to Daryl's face. She stroked his lips with her thumb and smiled, hoping he got her message loud and clear.

"Let's move on," said their leader, now that his power had been re-established. "No point giving them a bigger lead than we already have."

Heavy footsteps crunched down on the carpet of leaves above them, their pace moving off at a jog. Daryl held her still, shaking his head in warning that she was still not to move and she understood easily that one of them might have remained behind. Daryl was being careful, watching out for them, keeping them safe. It just made her love him more.

* * *

He was going to get them out of this, one way or another. He hadn't the first clue how he'd do it, but he wasn't going to let those fuckers do shit to her, not after what he'd seen them do to Merle. He didn't much care about himself, about the threats to gut him and leave him a walker like they'd done to his brother, but if any of the fuckers laid one filthy finger on her, he'd tear off their skin with his bare hands.

Insecurity almost crushed him when they started talking about her, about wanting to take her with them so they could use her up and throw her away. He hadn't cared what they'd implied about her being with him, had even felt a little buzz of pleasure that someone outside of himself would acknowledge the possibility she'd share his bed, but then he'd caught her expression and it was one infused with repugnance. He'd felt shame and self-disgust in an instant, cursing his wayward dick as it responded to her soft body learning the contours of his, knowing that she was too good for him and not in a million years would ever consider being with him like that. And then it had all changed. Her eyes had gone soft, shimmering brightly with that glimmer of affection she always shared when she watched him, and her thumb had caressed his bottom lip. His dick throbbed uncomfortably with renewed confidence and attraction for her, and it hadn't helped that when he looked down between them he could see the distinct curves of her breasts. They looked mouth-wateringly delicious.

He couldn't believe it had taken something like this, being on the run for their lives, to be the most intimate he'd ever been with a woman. It was nothing to fuck some faceless bitch at the end of a night of excessive drinking, but it was another to stare into a set of gorgeous eyes the colour of the sky while his dick said what he'd so far failed to do all year. He was a little disappointed he hadn't got to kiss her first, but the cat was out of the bag now. No point getting all pissy about it. No point being all _shy._ If she hadn't felt the same, if she'd not been on the same page as him, she'd never have done that little wiggle to keep him excited. At least, he didn't think she would have. Unless…was she deliberately trying to turn him on to distract him so he didn't haul his ass out of their hidey hole so he could drive his knife into that asshole's throat? The other two would have killed him before he'd probably even reached the Governor, so maybe he couldn't blame her if that _had _been her plan all along, but he sure hoped it weren't.

He'd distinctly heard three sets of footsteps moving away from the area and was reasonably confident the threat was gone for the moment, but Carol didn't. It was smarter to stay put for a while anyway, just to make sure the bastards didn't change their minds and double back.

It wasn't any trouble having her body stretched out above his, her every curve melting into him. She settled back over him, her cheek pressed to his chest and through the pressure his body reverberated with his quickened heartbeats. Their bodies trapped heat between them and Daryl decided he was in no hurry to move. He didn't know how far into the woods the Governor would venture, whether he'd go only so far and give up. He didn't know whether they should head back to the car and get back to the prison, or if they'd expect that and circle back to lay in wait for them to show. Maybe they should just lie up here all night. He didn't think he'd suffer too much having Carol within arm's reach—until he heard her stomach gurgle and he was reminded they hadn't eaten breakfast before they'd had to run. He wanted to wait it out for another half hour at least before he tried to retrieve his pack. For now, without an audience up above, he figured it was time to change positions. Carol wasn't heavy by any stretch of the imagination, but their position was getting to be a bit uncomfortable.

Before he could move a muscle—even the one that had already made its presence known— Carol rose above him, straddling him so that he pressed against the heat between her thighs. It wasn't the time, it wasn't the place, but circumstance was forcing them to stop and take stock. He stilled, letting his palms brush gently up her thighs, mesmerised as she leaned down over him, her hands braced against his chest. Her breath, hot and moist puffed against his neck and then he felt her lips brush against his jaw. It was a slice of Heaven he'd never expected to have. It was dangerous to be distracted, but one more delay on having the one thing he was desperate to have could well kill him, he decided, so with bravery emboldening his every move, Daryl tangled his fingers in her hair and lifted her head away from his throat, just a little, just enough to finally claim her with a kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: So, my usual go to guy (or gal in this case) for all things American is MIA, so, I post this wary of having some obvious and cringe worthy mistakes. If you see them, or you read something that throws you out of the fic, PLEASE let me know so I can fix it?

Also, big thank you to hanagirl for reviewing. You aren't logged in so I'm not able to reply, but I'm loving your reviews.

Chapter Five

He was floating. Nothing in his brain would settle, sensation whipping it all into a fluster and he was left with the sensation that he was slowly flittering around in the air, completely weightless. Then, as she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, a red hot bolt of desire shot to his dick and he crossed over from being horny to absolutely frenzied in his need to touch her.

Prying his eyes open didn't help. Seeing how lost she was in their kiss only compounded his craving to extend this beyond a first declaration of passion, of intent. He wanted it all and he was just about crazy enough to take it in their precarious hiding spot, if it weren't for the cramp rapidly developing in his thigh. His two hands were combing through her hair, holding her close, refusing to allow her to draw back even if she'd tried to. Which, he was gratified to realise once the floaty feeling in his head calmed the hell down, she hadn't.

Pain pinched at the muscle in his leg and he grimaced, but he wasn't letting go of her lips. He took one of her hands in his and guided it to where the soreness had taken root, roughly encouraging her to help him massage out the pain while his body shuffled in spasmodic jerks to try and take his leg out from under her. The change in position seemed to work, alleviating the contractions in his muscle, and so he pushed up against her with her back wedged into the back of their mini-cavern and all he could concentrate on was the heat of her mouth as it fell open and her luscious tongue peaked out to taste his lips.

Her clever hand had worked out the best rhythm to work on his cramp without his help so he used his own to finally touch her, to push the strap of her top down off her shoulder and sweep his rough fingers across her collarbone. A tidal wave of lust exploded within him the second his tongue collided with hers and without any thought at all his palm cupped her breast and his callused thumb dragged against her nipple, circling it lazily until she threw her leg across his thigh and hitched his pelvis closer, angled right up against her, the heat between her legs scorching him even through two pairs of pants. He pinched her nipple, ripping his lips away from the Heaven of her mouth to draw out the torture by sucking her pebbled berry between his teeth.

Her back arched—except there was nowhere for her to go and the back of her head cracked into the rocky wall behind her.

Her cry of pain was like a bucket of ice water—one that he apparently desperately needed as he realised his other hand had already started working on the button of her pants. He tore himself away, burying his face into her throat and drawing in deep, rasping breaths in an effort to slow down his galloping pulse.

"Shit." He was still panting, taking no small comfort in the rapid dipping and diving of Carol's chest as he took refuge against it, almost too scared to look up and see what expression she'd have on her face. He didn't think there was any point trying to convince himself she didn't feel the same, but it didn't stop him from being slightly embarrassed for acting like a randy teenager. Especially when they were meant to be hiding from a homicidal maniac that would shoot them as soon as he saw them.

"This probably isn't the best time," Carol grumbled, her words shaking around ragged breaths but he could still hear a hint of the flirtatious teasing that she always managed to throw in when she was talking to him. He smirked into the crook of her neck and then sighed as her fingers ran through his hair, soothing him, hypnotising him into wanting more, wanting back at the prison where he could hide her in his cell and discover all her little bedside secrets.

"Could prob'ly pick a better one," he agreed, ignoring the flush burning his cheeks to give in to temptation and lick the full length of her throat right to her jaw. He propped himself up on his elbows and working in one extra, quick kiss. "Gimme a raincheck?"

"You got it, Dixon." Her eyes were sparkling and for one fine moment he couldn't move, too entranced with how beautiful she was—how lucky he was to finally get his ass into gear and see it for what it was. He was really hoping that luck hung in there as they tried to navigate their way out of this mess.

"Gimme a sec to check if the coast is clear? Then we better get our asses movin' before we lose the light. We're a long way from home, Dorothy." She stopped in the middle of nodding, her hand curving into the side of his face as she held his gaze, her expression blistering with sudden trepidation.

"I'm so sorry I dragged you out here into this. I was stupid wanting to get away." She swallowed hard and for a minute he thought she was going to cry, couldn't quite believe how relieved he was when she didn't.

"You didn't make me do nothin' I didn't already wanna do. I coulda said no and just camped outside the cells with ya. Didn't want to," he admitted shyly, ducking his gaze for a moment before seizing his inner tiger, staring her right in the eye and admitting out loud exactly what he'd thought when the option came up. "Wanted to spend some time with you away from all those nosy assholes."

He'd never admit it but he swore her smile was brighter than the goddamn sun, and just as warm.

"Even if we end up dead, it was worth it," she whispered to him and he was sure she could see some long forgotten part of his soul that no one in his life had ever had the chance to see for her to believe something like that.

"Ain't gonna end up dead," he vowed, never more sure of anything in his life, then rolled out against their cover branches and exposed their hiding spot. He rose fluidly to his feet in the next second, scanning the woods and listening for any sign that their enemy was closer than they thought. He sensed nothing, quickly uncovering his weapon and the bags, reaching for Carol's hand and headed off perpendicular to the Governor and his men.

In mutual understanding they kept silent, Daryl taking her hand as they set off at a solid pace. Not running full pelt this time, but walking fast enough to bounce into a jog now and then. They stopped when he noticed Carol's steady pressure in his hand was beginning to lag and that he was pulling her more than her easily keeping up with him. As soon as he stopped and she grabbed for a bottle of water, he remembered they hadn't eaten yet and dug into the bag of things he'd found at the doctor's place, busting open the box of granola bars. Carol moaned as she tore into the bar, a few crumbs sticking to her lips until Daryl gently flicked them off.

"You're a messy eater."

Carol stopped chewing to contemplate him thoughtfully.

"An' that's comin' from the guy that likes to roll around in the mud and smear animal guts all over his jeans." Her lips quirked as she pointedly looked at his mud-caked pants.

"I figure if you're gonna wash my pants, I should at least give you a challenge," he kidded, an easy smile settling on his lips as he watched some of the tension and fear ease from her shoulders.

"Everythin' about you is a challenge, Daryl. Good thing I like that." And she winked at him. He was pretty certain no girl had ever winked at him in his whole damn life. No one had ever made a habit of flirting with him the way she had, either, and some days it made his head spin. Other days—mostly nights—it found him lying in his cot, trying to sleep but having no success as he unwillingly conjured up some of the things she'd suggested. The night she'd asked him if he wanted to screw around—when they'd all camped out in the prison's front yard, damn near on top of each other—it had taken him hours to get the images of her naked body writhing around on top of his out of his head, and subsequently he'd been hard as steel the entire time.

"If we weren't runnin' for our lives I'd ask what else you like, but time's a wastin'. Let's go."

She didn't fuss, quickly stowing her empty wrapper back in the box, which she then stuffed back into the doctor's bag and they set off again. Not once did she complain about her legs being tired, or her body weakening and Daryl was reminded again what an asset she was to the group, what a strength she was to _him, _how downright special she was in the grand scheme of things.

They'd trekked for hours, passing very few walkers. He didn't want to do it, but the ones they encountered now he killed, preferring to think they'd be long gone before the Governor and his sheep stumbled upon this way. He'd feel safer if he killed them rather than worrying about the number of walkers pursuing them gathering together and forming a herd. He steered them away from any promising-looking shacks, knowing the Governor would haze them to the ground as soon as he considered them to be inside. His mind spun, trying to race through the options. They needed shelter, but it needed to not be obvious, preferably provided by the great outdoors rather than being manmade. They needed to stay away from water, fearing the landmark to be a calling card to their enemy. The Governor and his men had no real tracking skills, but as long as a body had water, could follow the line of a creek, they had a chance of making it out of the woods. Daryl had more than a chance of getting them out of the woods without the solid presence of a creek bed, but he couldn't risk leading Carol to the one major possibility where they could intersect with the Governor.

His inner compass led him toward thicker trees, denser foliage and he just hoped they had enough water to last a few days out there before they had to make their way toward a creek. He cursed under his breath.

"What's wrong?" Carol tugged on his hand and he looked over his shoulder .

"Gotta head away from water. These assholes don' have the first idea how to track but they ain't stupid enough to stray too far from water. If I could get to a creek, I could work out where the fuck to go to get back to the prison."

"Daryl, you don't need a creek. You can do this standin' on your head." Her smile was brimming with confidence he wasn't sure he shared and then she was in his arms, pressed against his body, her own trembling with exhaustion.

"Need to find shelter soon, so's you can rest."

"I'm fine—" she objected but was cut off as he planted a hard kiss on her lips. She looked dazed when he pulled away and he grinned, feeling a cocky confidence he'd never had before.

"You ain't fine," he refuted gently, his hand slipping the length of her spine and settling on the enticing, rounded curve of her ass. "You're about dead on your feet."

"You're just tryin' to knock me off my feet," she teased, linking her arms up around his neck.

"Ain't I already done that?" He was suddenly nervous. Hadn't he done enough to show her where he stood?

"Yeah," she said breathily, her lips finding the pulse in his throat and kissing it. "You done that an' more."

He liked the way she admitted it so easily, pushing his nerves back toward normal, even though his heart rate was picking up extra beats from having her so close.

"So…we got an understandin', right?"

She chuckled against his chest, releasing one of her hands to stroke a sensual path right down his front until she was brushing not so gently against the bulge in his pants and squeezed. He forgot how to breathe, white bolts of pure desire searing him inside and out.

"Yeah, I think we're finally understandin' things just fine."

It was torture, pure and cruel, but he forcefully pried her fingers loose from his dick before he fell to his knees begging her like the pussy he truly knew he was. If he'd been Merle he'd have taken her up against a tree by now, not taken his sweet time just getting to the first kiss. Merle wouldn't have let an opportunity get past him, wouldn't let the threat of no Governor stalking his ass stall him from making this woman his. They were still exposed out in the open and as much as his body screamed at him to finally get her naked, he didn't want to be shot while he was doing it. They needed to get, and they needed to do it now. He was even ready to bed down in one of the long abandoned shacks they ran into now and again, if it meant getting Carol somewhere safer than the vulnerable, unguarded spaces of the woods.

Ignoring his still hard dick, ignoring her soft giggles, he snatched up her hand and dragged her forward. He'd stomped about for another few minutes when his boot struck something hard and immobile and almost sent him sprawling in the dirt. He let go of Carol's hand, kicked the thing that had tripped him up again and then used his boot to sweep away some of the forest floor. He revealed a door and Daryl stared at it, did a quick survey of their surrounds and huffed a thoughtful breath.

"What's a trapdoor doin' out in the middle of nowhere?" he mused out loud, almost forgetting Carol was there as a sick feeling crept along his bones.

"Why are images from that movie with Morgan Freeman and those kidnapped girls runnin' through my head?" Carol whispered right next to his ear, sending a shiver right down to his soul.

_Maybe 'cause nothin' but sick pricks feel the need to hide remote as fuck hidey holes in the middle of the Georgia woods._

He didn't want to pull up that trap door, as desperate as they were for shelter. They had one pathological maniac following them, intent on making sure they were good and dead, and for all Daryl knew, there could be another one lying in wait beneath the earth, dwelling there like a stranded Devil with too much time on his hands. He chewed the inner lining of his cheek while he contemplated it, dragging his crossbow from his shoulder as he succumbed to the blinding reality that they had no choice. Whatever was down there could be worse than anything they encountered up here, but he had to take the chance and hope to fuck it all came up roses.

"Kiss The Girls." He muttered the name of the movie and hoped like fuck he wasn't about to step into a nightmare. "You got your knife?"

Carol's hand landed on the small of his back and he startled a little. He twisted and speared her with an intent look as he dragged her to his side, nodding approvingly at the knife clutched in her hand. "Don't go bein' heroic. If there's shit down there, let me handle it."

"I don't look good in a cape and lycra tights."

Shit. He couldn't believe she was still kidding around, with how many things were exploding in their face right now. His gaze narrowed, refusing to allow his mind to wander to a picture of her wearing black spandex and looking remarkably like cat woman.

"Good. Capes just give walkers somethin' else to grab, anyways."

"An' while you're in there not letting me kill anything, just remember that if you go down, I'm right behind you." She peered at him with warning, her grip moving to clasp around his elbow. "Just stay safe. I didn't finally get you to kiss me to lose you now."

"Yes, ma'am."

Daryl took a steadying breath, loaded up his crossbow then slowly, carefully lifted up the hatch.


	6. Chapter 6

AN…Phew, so lots of people off with the holiday spirit, huh? I'm not really sure how long this fic will go for, maybe another 5 chapters? I don't have a lot of skill with planning, so it's very much an estimate.

**Guest: **I can't kill my fave characters. Even if I thought it would make the story better, I just can't do it. I have NO idea if I can torture them, though ;)

**Chilli: **I am extremely flattered, thank you! I hope you aren't disappointed with my other fics when you get to them! When I started this fic I wanted a road trip…that was pretty much it. I just wanted to get them out of the prison, but the Governor idea had been floating around as another fic I wanted to do, so voila! Combo! And just so you know, your English does NOT suck. I thought it was pretty good ;)

Now…on with it, I guess. Review?

Chapter Six

"Fuck," Daryl hissed. "We just walked ourselves right into the middle of the Seven Circles of Hell."

"Or the set of a Hollywood movie," Carol suggested though the shock in her voice was so strong he didn't think they could have even convinced Axel of that one, as dumb as shit as that boy had been.

The darkness had been so deep and thick that it had sunk into their skin. Leaving the hatch open had barely allowed any shards of sunlight to filter down into the pit and Daryl heaved a great sigh of impatience as he toed his way through, striking a lonely match from the box in his pocket and shielding it in his palm while he frantically searched for some form of light. The shadows were long and sinister and the damp air and eerie cry of silence made his skin crawl.

Carol bumped into something behind him and he winced at the clang of metal as it hit hard dirt. He spun and aimed the dying match in that direction and found a kerosene lantern sagging on its side at Carol's feet. She picked it up and he wasted no time in lighting it, the last flickering flames gratefully catching the wick and throwing stark beams around them.

It was as if their flesh had been the initial spark, not enough to tempt much more than the first moments of animation, but as soon as the soft glow spread into the crevices of the pit, the growling, remorseless hunger of a walker corrupted the silence. Daryl swung his crossbow at the threat without thinking, the arrow cutting the air sure and true as it lodged deep into the reanimated dead's brain. Only when they both heaved a relieved sigh did they notice how it had been chained to the wall by its neck and both arms, another chain attached to its feet, and Daryl realised they were now standing right in the middle of some poor soul's tomb.

"Oh God, that poor girl." Without even looking Daryl knew Carol was swimming in tears. Her arms encircled his waist, like she was accustomed to seeking comfort in that way, and he naturally curled his arm around her shoulders and hauled her in close.

"I fuckin' hate when I'm right."

The walker was small, showing what looked to be a girl barely younger than Beth but with long black hair sagging from the scalp in patches. There was no telling her original eye colour, but by the distinctly Asian look of her, they had no doubt they'd been brown. She wore a simple, demure lilac dress, hiked up around her waist, panties absent and, as cut marks in the flesh of her thighs became obvious as Daryl moved closer to the corpse, Carol choked and then launched herself away from him, fell hard to her knees and vomited.

While she was distracted, Daryl swept the light around the small cavern and felt his gut drop when a darker shadow revealed a hallway to a bunch of other rooms. His gorge rose but he fought hard to hold it down, wondering if they were about to find the sick fuck responsible for this girl's last tortured hours in this world or if they were long gone. He didn't want to contemplate what might be behind those doors, but as he shone the lantern down the hallway and didn't see an end, he grasped onto a hope that maybe it was a tunnel that led out of there. Daryl didn't know if it was smart to lead Carol through a passage that could end up in the middle of a walker nest, but with the Governor out for their blood topside and the night fast descending, he figured they might be shit out of luck. His senses were buzzing, but he didn't sense imminent danger at this point. A gnawing sense of uncertainty, sure, but he'd lived with that for most of the days of his life.

Carol was whimpering so he decided to go with the corridor. Going back to the entry, he pulled down the hatch and hoped it would remain camouflaged enough that the Governor would miss it—unless he tripped over the handle like Daryl had.

"Can you hang onto the lamp?" Daryl asked, already swinging his crossbow down so he could pull back the string and reload it, prepared for any eventuality that required a swift death.

Carol sniffled, wiped at her face with her hand and then took the lantern, holding it aloft so he could see the path as they started walking slowly along it. The rooms off the corridor remained silent, except for one almost at the very end. Daryl peered through the window and the sight of two naked, young girls hissing and throwing themselves at the door between them made him feel dirty and revolted. They were barely old enough for their hips to curve, for their breasts to sprout, and for one devastating second he wondered if maybe Sophia had been lucky to go out the way she had.

He pulled Carol past the door. "Don' look in there. Ain't no need to see shit like that. World's fucked up enough as it is." Her hand was shaking in his and he squeezed it, hoping his presence would be enough to keep those dark thoughts out of her head—he was having enough for the both of them.

There was a door at the end of the corridor. Daryl stopped, tried to listen with his ear up against the wood. He heard nothing but the bellowing ache of silence and decided to trust it. Pulling the door open slowly, he bounced around carefully on the soles of his feet, preparing to slam it shut the second it looked like anything threatening might descend on them. The door creaked open, revealing to anyone who happened to be waiting that an intruder had found this place, but there was no gun barrel greeting him once he stepped across the threshold, Carol almost plastered into his back. There was nothing but the aching finality of abandonment. And a staircase. They ascended it carefully, and he wished they could snuff out the lamp's wick but then they'd be in complete darkness and that was something that even at his age Daryl had never been able to get totally used to. Wasn't something he could accept without feeling fear curl up like an angry cat in his gut, ready to lash out hissing and scratching until something or someone bled.

Carol was breathing heavily behind him, erratic, her arm curled around his body so her hand rested against his belly and he wondered if she was working up to another of those panic attacks. Funny how she could be pursued by a gun-toting maniac, spend all day running shit scared through the woods, but small dark spaces or over-crowded prisons were the things that would send her into full-blown panic.

A trap door obscured the top of the stairs and Daryl shoved against it with his shoulder. Dust drifted down from the cracks as he dislodged it, and first it bumped against some kind of resistance on the other side, but the second shove had it bouncing open until he caught it and controlled its opening swing.

He could tell straight away the shack was deserted and had miraculously escaped the sweet, cloying stench of death. Whoever had locked those girls up was long gone, Daryl suspected, probably not giving a shit for his doomed little prisoners while he'd tried to get out and survive in a world that now had badass predators scarier with their fucked up shit than he ever was. Carol crawled up the stairs into the room after him and Daryl didn't waste time slamming the trapdoor shut. He looked around, noticing a small cabinet stacked with files and papers and he attempted to lift it over the door, finding it surprisingly heavy, grunting as he managed to shunt it across the floor to its new position. It hung half over the seal of the door and Daryl hoped that, if it didn't prove heavy enough to stop anyone following them up into the shack, then whoever lingered on the stairs would get that heavy as fuck cabinet tumbling right into their face.

The long winter the group had spent on the road fleeing from walker threats had taught them all to never leave a stone unturned, so while Daryl was looking out the only other exit to the place, trying to see if he recognised where he was, Carol was delving into the cupboards and finding a promising supply of canned food. His mouth salivated. Hell, he was so hungry he'd eat just about anything, but he was happy enough to scarf down the can of cold beef stew Carol handed over to him. She was avoiding his gaze, looking around the room and every so often her body would shudder like someone was walking over her grave.

"Spill." He was tired, dead tired, and he knew she was pushing beyond exhausted. Even if the Governor came hammering on the door right now he wasn't sure they could do shit about it.

"I don't want to stay here." She pouted, though he'd bet money she didn't even realise it.

"You gotta forget about all that sick shit. We're survivin' in here for the night—don't think 'bout where we are. Right now this is _our _place, just you an' me."

He could see her chest expand as she thought about it, her deep breathing technique an attempt to calm her down though it did nothing for his own equilibrium. He understood where she was coming from. He didn't want to sleep on that fucker's bed, didn't want to sit on the couch, didn't want to share shit with a person that could chain up little girls and do fuck knows what with them, then leave them to die an excruciating death.

"You're right," she said at last and a crushing weight seemed to ease off his chest. "We'll sleep a few hours then try and get back to the prison."

While he attempted to barricade the front door, she spread out their blankets on the floor. "Never thought I'd miss those prison cots, but boy are my tired old bones suffering from roughin' it on the floor."

Daryl grinned, the impulse unbidden as an image of her sleeping on a stack of mattresses flashed through his brain. "Didn't know you were such a princess," he teased before bedding down beside her.

"Hey, you might have grown up all rustic an' all, but where I grew up, we had beds." She was lying on her back, her eyes all crinkled at the corners as she squeezed them shut tight. Daryl rolled to his side and propped his head up on his hand.

"You'd look good on a bed, a proper one. Fancy sheets and covers and those flouncy European pillows tossed to the floor."

All thought of danger seemed to be sucked right out of the room as her face relaxed and that lethal expression blossomed—the one that warned him he was going to have a hell of a time getting to sleep after hearing whatever suggestive thing she had to say.

"Am I sleepin' in some silky negligee or are you just imaginin' me naked?"

"Pffft. I'm a shy man, sweetheart. In my dreams you're wearing flannel PJ's an' big fluffy socks."

"You scared of my ankles, Dixon?" she asked, eyebrow arched, eyes wide and he straight away got to wondering how often he'd ever seen her ankles. In all the time they'd been running from walkers, a year they'd all spent in each other's pockets, he didn't think he'd glimpsed a bit of her skin from her shoulders down unless the sun had already kissed it. Couldn't recall if he'd ever seen her barefoot.

He frowned. "Maybe. Ain't never seen 'em to know for sure."

"We get out of here, I'll let you have a glimpse," she promised, reaching for his free hand and twining her fingers through his.

"Of your ankles? What if I wanna see more than that?" There was a steady pounding rhythm that seemed to echo in his head, his body flushing with warmth as he stroked Carol's wrist with his thumb.

She shuffled closer, her chest pressed up against his chest, breasts flattened enticingly as she kissed his chin. "You will. I'm lookin' forward to strippin' you naked an' I figure turnaround is fair play and all."

He wasn't as panicked about that thought as he might have been, even just months ago. Seemed like Merle discovering the secret he'd hidden from his own brother all his life had broken his need to hold all of that pain and shame in, and it wasn't like his torso was much of a mystery to this woman since she'd barged in after Hershel had patched him up to offer him kind words and emotional sustenance.

"You know I ain't pretty to look at," he warned, just in case she'd somehow forgotten and then he immediately dismissed his worry when her molten gaze started a fire in his belly that spread like wildfire to his groin.

"You," she said, her voice low and husky, her fingers slowly stroking his jaw and ruffling the scruff that was beginning to grey, her thumb tracing the plump jut of his bottom lip, "are the prettiest man I think I've ever seen. They broke the mould with you."

"Some might say that was God's blessin' on the world."

"No, the blessing would have been you. Breakin' the mould was just selfish. I feel sorry for all those other poor women that don't get to have one of you."

Now she'd done it. His cheeks flamed and he dropped his head against her shoulder. "Fuck, you're bizarre," he decided, and as much as he wanted to strip her naked right there and then, he didn't want their first time to take place on the filthy floor of some paedophile nutcase's shack in the woods.

"'An' you're….somethin'…but sadly I'm too exhausted to think straight. Just know it's somethin' really good." He could hear the subtle drag in her words now as her consciousness started to lag, and he was grateful. She needed sleep, they both needed an energy boost so he could really make a concerted effort to get them home. When he pulled back he found her eyes closed again, her chest rising and falling with her steady breaths. His gaze was riveted to the deep tan across her chest and shoulders and the stark white of her flesh beneath her shirt line, and the curve of her breasts. One day soon he was going to look at all of her, see all those lines and curves unfettered with clothing and he was going to cherish them with his mouth until he had her writhing and begging him to douse the scorching flames. And he would, making her body sing for him so sweet it'd put Beth's dulcet tones to shame.

Hell, he was good at dreaming. He might as well make himself look calm and skilled while he was at it.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: I want to apologise for taking so long to get this one out. I hate to admit it but I was suffering a little performance anxiety, I think. Anyway, hope this one keeps you all on your toes, and thank you for sticking with me!

Chapter Seven

She wasn't sure how it happened, all she knew was the gentle fire that swept throughout her body as Daryl Dixon held her hand. She felt like a teenager again, walking home with her first boyfriend, their heated palms swinging gently between them while her heart thumped madly in her chest. Daryl looked a whole lot more comfortable with the move than Carol would have predicted, and this caused a smile to blossom on her lips. She was happier than she had any right to be in a world gone mad, and so of course that's when it all started to go horribly wrong.

Daryl led them out of the woods all of a sudden. By the way he stopped along the edge of the tree line to observe the worn building of another Motel, she could see he was startled. He hesitantly tugged her forward, keeping her behind him as he slipped his hand from hers and swung his crossbow off his shoulder and into his hands. Automatically he loaded it, the string drawn back and an arrow notched in place as the first walker tumbled out of the Motel's Office. The arrow struck true in the middle of its forehead, and the thud of its body hitting the wooden floor seemed to echo loudly in the silence. As Daryl took time to reload, other walkers stumbled from the building. He grabbed at her hand, jerking around to look when she wasn't there to placate him with her touch. She was too busy staring with horror behind them at the walkers that seemed to flow from the woods until they were surrounded.

"Oh God, where did they all come from? Have they been following us and we didn't hear them?" She was flustered, her knife out of its sheath and readied for attack when Daryl grabbed her around the waist and ran, her feet barely able to find purchase as he launched them at a car, yanked open the door and shoved her inside. He dived across the hood, kicking a walker away from the door with his heavy boot and just barely managed to scramble inside and shut the door as walkers slammed against the car from all sides, their putrid faces trying desperately to get to them through the glass.

"Shit," exploded from his lips and Carol tried not to hyperventilate. He flicked the visors frantically up and down, checked the glove box, under the car mat then, when he realised there were no keys going to suddenly drop down in his lap, slammed his palms down on the wheel hard, a string of curses intoxicating the air around them.

Carol reacted, terrified for her life, and Daryl's. She dived for the floor plate with her knife in her hand, her forehead bumping hard against Daryl's knee as he shot back in his seat so fast she swore he'd claim whiplash. She wasn't sure what he thought she was going to do, but when her hands went to pull the wires out from under the wheel and did some fancy paring and twisting until the car roared into life, he yanked her up with a look of complete awe on his face and then jammed his foot on the accelerator, barrelling walkers out of the way and squishing any that fell in front of the vehicle with careful aim with the tires. The way out was, consequently, bumpy.

She knew how queasy she felt, but Carol darted a look at Daryl and he looked positively white. She snorted, then slammed her hand across her mouth, then snorted again. They'd barely made it out onto the road when she was laughing hysterically with tears running down her cheeks, and then abruptly the laughter switched to sobs.

Daryl stopped the car in the middle of the road, put it in park and then he was watching her warily, like he had no idea what to do with hysterical women—hysterical women who knew random things like how to steal a car. Carol started laughing again when she realised that he probably didn't. She wasn't used to being one.

"Where the **fuck **did you learn how to hotwire a car?" His eyes were wide and his pupils so dilated Carol could feel herself falling right into them, completely lost in the dark pools, mesmerised by what she thought was a desire so wild it could have its own show on cable. "Shit, I think that has to be the hottest damn thing I've ever seen in my life."

Carol blushed. "Really? So, flashing my boobs would barely get your motor runnin'? What I really need to do to turn you on is steal a car?" She swiped away her tears and felt the tension start to ease finally. "If only I'd known that eight months ago," she sighed wistfully, like the waste of that time was a real burden on her heart.

"Don't think I can't tell you're side-steppin' the question," he said around a compulsive grin and Carol laughed in delight. God, it was so _good _to see Daryl like this. Still himself, but _relaxed._ They had the Governor out there intent on hunting them down like dogs and yet Carol thought she'd never spent a better time in her life as she had these few days on the run with Daryl.

"My daddy was a mechanic. He wanted me to know what to do if I ever got into a position where I needed to run."

"Man shoulda put you in Karate or some shit like that instead," Daryl drawled, a slight tinge of irritation dimming his smile at the indirect mention of her needing help. If ever there'd been a woman who'd needed to run, it was her.

"Why? You don't think my hotwiring skills came in handy?"

Daryl's large hand loomed in front of her face before it suddenly snaked around her head, dragging her closer so he could lay a hot, burning kiss on her lips. She felt all fuzzy and vague when he pulled away.

"You are a total mystery to me," he said, still grinning like a loon. Like they'd just got away from a herd of walkers and they were giddy with life. "I love it." He kissed her again and this time, when he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and gently teased it with his teeth, she could have sworn her toes actually curled.

"You know, I think the Governor's probably given up on us by now," Carol whispered against his lips, sighing happily when he continued to deliver lingering kisses along her jaw and down her neck to her collarbone.

"Yeah, I figure even that asshole ain't stupid enough to think he can find us out there. Every tree'd look the same to 'im. Like looking for a needle in a haystack." His lips had found the gentle curve of her cleavage and, before she knew what was happening, he'd pulled the strap of her top and bra down her arm and had captured an aching nipple between his teeth. His tongue flicked it rapidly while his palm worked across her hip, fingering the hem of her shirt before his fingers bunched it up and his knuckles brushed against the bare skin of her stomach. Molten heat gushed between her legs and Carol moaned loudly in need, arching up into his touch like a wanton.

"D-Daryl? You think this is a good idea?"

"Hmmm. Best damn idea I ever had," he said confidently, his lips tickling her breast as he lazily formed the words around sucking on her nipple.

His touch diverted from her for a moment and as her fuzzy mind tried to work out where his hand had got to, her seat snapped back and he was climbing on top of her, pushing her back in the most uncomfortable way and yet she thought she might be flying with how excited she was. His grasp on her waist returned, and then rough fingers skimmed across her flesh and down, down past the loose waistband of her pants, drifting tantalisingly across the top elastic of her panties.

He took a breath from worshiping her breasts and Carol acted, desperate to taste his lips again. Even as bold as he'd been so far, he wasn't pushing any further, so in synch with his diving tongue, she snapped the button open on her own pants, drawing down the zipper and placing her hand on his, encouraging him without words that she wanted more. That more was _essential._

Long, calloused fingers breached the top of her panties, sifting through her pubic hair until they slid through the wetness of her opening. The sensation of him touching her, _there_, completely blew the cobwebs from her mind. Carol moaned into his mouth, desperately clinging to his lips even as her knees drew up automatically and she shunted her hips against those digits. Without warning his touch was gone and Carol cried out at the loss, her attempt to recapture his attention derailed when he grabbed her pants at her hips and tried to tug them down. He tore his lips away from her, trying to concentrate on freeing up some more space so he could explore unhindered, when something suddenly threw itself at the windshield. The loud thump made them both jump, and they paused, twin sets of heated blue eyes slowly rising to meet each other, Daryl panting hard. His middle finger was poised right over her clit, one breast exposed to not only him but the hungry walker frantically climbing the front of the car, and his erection quite prominent as his knee, propped up on the passenger seat beside her thigh, pushed it right into Carol's line of sight. As she watched, as the walker banged on the glass separating it from them, Daryl blushed twenty shades of puce, letting his head drop and then bounce against her collarbone. Carol tried not to choke on a laugh even as her arms went around his shoulders and she held onto him tight.

"I'm gettin' the feelin' that it ain't never gonna rain," he said against her shoulder, his tone one of morose deprivation.

Carol giggled, letting her hand fall down his back, stroking past his hip so she could ghost her touch forward across the tenting of his pants.

"Poor baby," Carol cooed, running her fingers past his belt buckle and up under his shirt till she found the tight cords of muscle around his shoulder. "We should probably get out of here. I promise to let you cash in that raincheck as soon as we get home."

Home. The prison. Daryl groaned loudly against her shoulder. "All those pricks are gonna be in our business," he complained, words muffled against her neck and she shuddered as the heat of his cheek left its mark. She could tell he was reluctant to move—as was she—but things were starting to get a little frantic around the car.

"We should probably pack it up and go." Her whispered suggestion tickled his ear and she grinned as his shoulder shrugged instinctively, attempting to protect his ear from her warm breath as it trembled throughout his body.

"Yeah. Hard to stay in the mood with these dead bastards dry humpin' the hood." Suddenly he pushed himself off her and slid back into his seat, throwing her a cheeky grin as he put the car back in gear and she tried to cover herself back up.

They drove in companionable silence and Carol couldn't help but compare how different everything was with Daryl at her side in place of Ed. There'd never been a comfortable moment in her whole relationship with her husband. She'd made sure to know all about Ed before she'd married him: his high school dreams of a football scholarship, his reality as a used car salesman, she'd met his family and his friends and not once had she truly known him at all. Now, sitting beside Daryl at the end of the world, probably two of the few people that still survived in their part of Georgia, she knew so few of the little details that made up the man Daryl was and yet she knew him on a far deeper level than she ever had Ed. Not that Daryl was really the kind of person you could play twenty questions with. She knew; all winter she'd tried.

"You know how there are those big moments in our living history where you'll forever remember where you were and what you were doing when you first heard the news? Like, when JFK was assassinated?"

Daryl arched a brow as he stared across the car at her. "Nope. Weren't even born yet."

Carol rolled her eyes. That _had _been a dumb example. "Okay, what about when the Space shuttle exploded, or the Oklahoma City bombing?"

"What's your point?"

He didn't look at her this time, seeming nervous for reasons Carol couldn't even surmise, but she pushed on anyway, refusing to worry and back down over something like this, over finding out how he felt about the thing that had ultimately brought them together.

"I just wanted to know what you were doing when you found out about walkers. Found out about this new world we're livin' in."

He froze. Carol watched as his knuckles turned white around the bone as he clutched the wheel, his mouth set in a thin line. She didn't think he was going to answer, that their companionable silence was going to turn awkward in a flash, and as regret set in, she scrambled for a way to defuse the moment right up until he opened his mouth and left her in shock.

"Found out the second one of those fuckers took a chunk out of my Pa while we were out huntin'. His friend Buck was next. Uncle Jess helped me get out but he'd been bit, too."

"Oh." She didn't know what to say. He sounded so detached from it, like it had happened to someone else, not his own father, but then she wondered if maybe that was his moment—his first taste of freedom in his whole life, like hers when she put that axe through Ed's head, and she saw that really, they were never that different from each other. She gasped as another realisation hit her, turning her head almost fearfully. "You stayed?"

His gaze switched from the road to her, flickered over her like a scared rabbit before fleeting away and staring solidly out the windshield. "Yeah. Didn't see no point in leavin'."

Carol was an expert on evasive language. She'd created so much of it in her past that she could almost recite what was between the lines like her life depended on it. She knew what it meant to not see any other option but to just stay, even if staying wasn't the best place to be. Not even if staying left you open and vulnerable to more hatred, to more violence. She was also an expert on how to keep quiet and just accept what could never be changed. She reached for his hand and he gave it easily. Carol kissed his palm, feeling her heart thump wildly at such an intimacy, and then linked her fingers through his.

"We're not too far from the prison," Daryl said after a while, breaking her out of her preoccupied silence. They were approaching a crossroads, the woods on one side and fields on the other. It was peaceful, almost beautiful in the stark loneliness of it all. Carol sighed, happier and more content than she'd ever been and just knew that even if this was it, the end of everything, that with Daryl's warm hand in hers, the rough pad of his thumb stroking a fire within her just from the smooth swipe of it against her own, she'd be fine with it. She'd be ready.

He, of course, noticed the giddy smile on her face, his own lips quirking as he watched her with eyes full of wonder, happy enough just to witness the happiness spread across her face. There was nothing complicated between them anymore and Carol wondered why, whatever it was that had previously held them back from crossing into that final orbit around each other, had suddenly shifted.

"First thing I'm doing is takin' a shower. Don't care what Rick says."

Carol giggled, about to volunteer to join him and deliver up on some of those promises when she caught a flash of something big and dark approaching them faster than anything in this new world should. Her eyes widened with heart-jolting fear and Daryl turned to look out the window right as a black SUV ploughed into the back of their car. The clash of metal screamed at the impact, the car spinning across the tarmac. Tyres burned and tore at the road as they folded in on the axels, screeching as metal ripped open and glass popped and shattered, spraying out and peppering the road.

The grinning face of a man with an eye patch climbing out of the SUV was the last blurred image Carol saw before all there was was darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Everyone is commenting on the new trailer for Season 4. I am both encouraged by the snippets of Caryl, as well as deadly fearful! Beth? Oh sweet Jesus, what's that all about? And Tyreese? I'm sure he'll survive, but who didn't? I don't believe it's obvious, so, what are your theories? Inquiring minds want to know? And, if you're still reading this fic, I'd love to hear from you!

Chapter Eight

Her consciousness bounced back to her like static, a throbbing pain radiating throughout her body and alerting her mind that she wasn't dead, despite something inside her head screaming at her that she should be—or soon would be. Events started to unfold in her mind, and as Daryl's face before they were hit pushed its way through the blurred muddle of her memories, she became aware of the thick dripping of some heavy liquid from her chin to her shoulder, although the deep, lacerating agony most decidedly originated from her forehead. Her eye felt sticky and partially encrusted when she blinked it, and as everything finally crystallised in her brain, and she realised it was her blood that coated her face, fear ripped through her system and she came awake with a sharp, terror-filled gasp.

"Daryl?" She sniffled, hating herself that his name squeezed out of her throat on such a pathetic whisper. He was silent, though she heard some kind of struggle, a dense thumping reverberation against something like a wooden floor or table, and she forced herself to fight the drowsiness wanting her to just close her eyes again and forget about everything. "Daryl?" She was a little louder this time, though someone's unexpected touch sent her careening in shock and revulsion, and finally Carol's eyes snapped open to her worst nightmare.

One blue eye and a black eye-patch was barely an inch away from her face. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. He can't answer you right now."

Carol struggled to force his grip off her face and arched her shuddering body to see around him, gasping painfully as she found Daryl staring at her from the floor. He was deadly still, his arms bound, his mouth gagged, and he tried to convey to her some kind of message that Carol already knew she'd blatantly ignore, even if she could decipher Dixon eye-language. She looked back at the Governor and she felt righteous anger rid her of her last grain of common-sense, seeing nothing but a cruel and twisted brute with too much power that he'd let go to his head. All she saw was Ed, and frankly, she was sick to death of seeing him. Of being _afraid _of him. Of being afraid of any version of _him._

She took her time to observe her surroundings, ignoring the psychopath in front of her until she was sure she understood their situation. Until the pain that made her entire body throb was consumed within her as something that existed but didn't matter. Couldn't matter until they were safe. A great, hulking black man with impressive short dreadlocks stood in the door of the cabin where they'd been taken and subdued. He was armed to the teeth, and Carol had to admit that he looked formidable, angry, and just a little bit scary. He looked like Michonne, if Michonne swapped her katana for a penis and a high-powered rifle.

The Governor was oily…smarmy. He was unarmed from what she could tell, not even a knife at his belt, which was standard for most people these days. His gun holster was empty and Carol understood why when she saw the pistol left carelessly on the table between Daryl and their captor, and just an energetic jump away from Carol—if she hadn't been tied to a chair. The bastard was so confident he had them he didn't even feel the need to hold a weapon within his hands. Well, she'd show him how the world paid arrogance these days. It was about time he learned that lesson.

While she'd studied the two, she'd not picked up on the third—a man faceless as he stood behind her. There was a subtle push against her bound hands, a knee she thought, and suddenly a harsh voice hissed loud enough for them all to hear just above her ear.

"Those hands of yours are tied up tight, sugar. You won't be doing nothing but watching your pretty loverboy over there eat lead."

The words filled Carol with panic, and she jolted against her restraints, processing slowly that his knee was still pressed lightly against her fingers. When she braced her wrists automatically she found they weren't tied very tightly at all. They were remarkably loose and that ever-present knee was preventing the ropes from falling to the floor. Relief slammed into her so hard Carol almost sagged in her chair, but instead a renewed sense of fight rushed through her and her gaze narrowed dangerously at the man hiding a ruined eye behind a patch.

She eyed him up and down, loathing making her heart pound and realisation hit her cold and fast.

"You're just a man." Disgust rolled heavily off her and seemed to flow straight into the Governor, his menacing smile morphing into sinister detachment that chilled her to her bones—bones that were feeling old and frail after their earlier impact with his car. They'd spent so long building him up as a monster that the realisation that he was just like them was enormous. The power of it breathtaking.

"And yet, I'm the man holding all the cards," he said, suddenly falling to one knee in front of her, his finger swiping zigzagging lines through the trail of blood on her cheek. "I'd considered keeping you," he confided, his voice deceptively soft, like he gave a damn, "but I'm not leaving anyone from your group alive."

The silence was filled with his amused chuckle and Carol watched him, never daring to look toward Daryl, knowing that to have the strength she needed to fight for him, she needed to not fight against him.

"So, you're _that _kind of man, too. Killer of babies and children. Two thirds of the people at that prison are people from Woodbury—people who were loyal to you until you turned on them and killed their family. You kill your own. It's a good plan to kill us all. No one would ever give you loyalty now."

There was another startling thump and Carol realised it was Daryl viciously kicking the leg of the table, sending it jolting across the floor in an effort to tell her to shut up. She couldn't do it, though. Couldn't just sit there and let this man do this to them. Couldn't let him get off on destroying them completely.

"I said to someone not so long ago that in this world, you kill or you die. I still stand by that."

Laughter, loud and ugly, tore from her throat and Carol saw the twisted incredulity that tainted his expression. "Am I funny to you? You find your lover's impending death amusing?"

Carol blew out an angry breath of air, gearing up to do verbal battle and hoping she got in some good shots. "First of all, you won't be killing him, not today, not ever, an' if you even try, I'll rip your balls off and shove them up your undoubtedly loose asshole."

The hard slap across her face stung, made her ears ring, and Carol dug down deep inside herself to hold back the tears that would normally have sprung up after such a familiar attack. She licked her bottom lip and tasted the metallic tang of her own blood.

"Where did you hear that one?" he sneered, dangerously close to her face. "It seems a little vulgar for a refined woman like yourself."

She smiled and knew it was laced with every scrap of pride and new respect she'd gathered for Daryl's brother.

"I'm sure you can guess. You did spend almost a year gettin' him right where you wanted him."

"Merle was a traitor, he played me right from the start." The Governor actually had the nerve to act betrayed when Carol knew he was out and out lying. Merle might not have been there for any reason other than to give him the freedom to try and find Daryl, but he'd done every damn thing this maniac had expected of him, and he'd porbably done it all with a smile on his face.

"I found that there was a lot I could learn from Merle Dixon," she confided, and somehow she felt that Merle was standing over them right now, lending her his enormous strength and stubbornness, probably saying a hundred and one crazy things to Daryl to get him to lie still and wait for her plan to take shape. A plan she'd never have been able to have if whoever the Governor's other man was, stationed behind her back, had been much more under his ruler's thumb than he apparently was. "He had you more than pegged, that's for sure. Told us all sorts of things about you."

"Did he now?" The leer returned, creating an ugly slash across an otherwise attractive face, but Carol didn't even bat an eyelid in fear. She felt nothing but revulsion for his good looks and wondered still how a smart woman like Andrea had been taken in so easily. Carol was resolved to make this man meet his end, and she hoped to God it hurt when she did. Suddenly she wanted justice, thirsted for it, and it was as if Merle was right there, whispering in her ear so loudly that she could completely blank out the pain she knew this was causing Daryl.

"How did you do it?" Daryl had never told them, had kept the pain to himself, letting her patch up a few of the cracks occasionally, but never confided fully. She knew that her asking the man that had put Merle down would cause another of those cracks to open in Daryl and she struggled now to keep from crying, determined to see this to the end even if it wounded them both. Even if he never wanted to touch her again for causing him to relive this.

"Didn't your boyfriend tell you?" The thought of Daryl keeping his brother's death a secret from her seemed to greatly amuse the Governor, and apprehension settled like a big ball of sick heavy in her gut. She shook her head in answer, ignoring Daryl's furious kicks to the table leg, but registering that each time the table shunted across the floor, that gun got closer and closer to the edge of the table. Closer to her.

"'I ain't gonna beg.' That's what that dumb hick's last words were. Maybe if he _had _begged, I might have let him live—long enough to watch me kill his precious brother, anyway. I bit off a couple fingers, then I shot him."

Carol sucked in a lancing breath, her lungs feeling the cut of air like it was from the blade of a knife. The horrible image of Merle being shot and bleeding out made her stance crumble a little, and tears gathered in her eyes. "Shot him where?"

His eyes glistened with pride, with callous glee. "In the gut, darling. And then I watched him turn."

There was an almighty roar from a suddenly ungagged Daryl and he was on his feet and charging at the Governor. His untied hands went around the man's throat and Carol watched as that cocky confidence was replaced by shock. Frantic eyes darted first to the big black guy at the door and then to the one she still hadn't seen but whose presence had been a solid at her back the whole time she'd been awake. Carol finally understood that these two men, these two _followers, _had their own plan, emphasised to the Governor himself as the black man stepped back over the threshold, out of the cabin. The ties unexpectedly fell from her own hands and even without the nudge on her shoulders she was off the chair and grasping at the gun, flicking open the chamber to double check it for bullets before snapping it shut and clicking off the safety.

Carol aimed the gun straight and sure, but by now Daryl had tackled their enemy to the floor, throwing wild, heavy punches at the Governor's face, splitting tissue and cracking bone as he grunted with the all the fury of a wild animal. The fight was a blur but it wasn't all Daryl's way, and every time he was pushed away and the Governor got the upper hand, Carol quaked in fear at the stark expression of pure malice he was unable to hold back. The two men that had been hunting them down at the side of the Governor stood completely back, not interfering to help them or their boss, and Carol had mixed emotions about that. If she and Daryl didn't eradicate the immediate threat, what were these men going to do next?

"Carol! What the fuck you waitin' for? Shoot the prick in the head," screamed Daryl and Carol stopped looking at the other two and tried to line up the shot.

Daryl was back in the fray, slamming the Governor's head into the corner of the table. Carol cringed at the sick crack of what sounded like bone snapping and figured that if a piece of the man's skull was now floating around in his brain, the struggle might slow down. Instead it seemed to fire him up, and with a renewed sense of strength, he hauled himself to his feet and started kicking Daryl in the ribs. Daryl's grunts of pain focused her like nothing else could have and she aimed the gun right as piercing, deadly blue eyes narrowed in on her.

"Give me the gun," he purred, and she could see in the brief flash of insanity in his eyes that he seriously expected that she would. That she'd lay down and die if he simply asked in the right tone of voice. He started advancing on her and Carol quickly walked backwards, wondering where her strength went. This was their last chance—if she failed they might not get another one.

"_Pull the trigger, Sugar, or my baby brother is as good as dead, and you don't wanna have to put him down like he had to do with me."_

Merle's husky tones echoed in her head and as the livid hatred of the man before her got closer, his mouth loosing a small amount of drool from his lips as he panted like an excited dog, Carol ignored his outstretched hand, once again lined up the shot and pulled the trigger.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: **WOW! The last chapter received unprecedented amounts of love and I am so very humbled and grateful to you all. I want to explain that this chapter has taken so long because Im struggling a little with time while knitting myself to death on some tests I am doing, but fear not, we are almost at the end, unless some new great idea hits me between the eyes and it continues on! I am open to suggestions if you have them ;) Also, I need to address the current Caryl troll who is finding their way around the group these days. I want to thank you, munch, for my very first troll review. I was, indeed, feeling quite left out. If you'd caught me a number of years ago I might have been crushed, I might have sobbed (well, probably not, I'm not much of a crier at the best of times—at least, not about stupid shit like this), and might have hurried out of the fandom with my tail between my legs. Now, I think you're funny. Funny because you waste your precious time in life going and looking up stories you so obviously hate, just so you can flame the writers. Hell, I can barely find the time to read all the things I _want _to read, let alone find time to read things that make me sick (like Daryl/OC, Daryl/Beth or just Daryl/anyone that isn't Carol!) I truly have to wonder, what threatens you so much about Caryl? Are you secretly envious that this coupling actually has depth behind it, unlike any of the other made up ships for this show? The only ones that are canon Maggie/Glenn, Shane/Lori and Lori/Rick, and IMO, Daryl/Carol. To me it was confirmed when Glenn asks Daryl what they are supposed to tell her when he leaves with his brother. They didn't say, "What do we tell Hershel?" or "What do we tell Beth?" No, they all knew Carol would be devastated and Daryl didn't fight the knowledge. So, if you don't like the pairing, go talk to Kirkman about it and stop taking out your childish crap on writers here. You've lost the whole point of fanfiction. It is for fans and we can 'filter' which characters we want to read about for a reason. Hun, look into it!

Also, **I don't own The Walking Dead. **I think I forget to say that a lot. If anyone who _does _own the characters or rights to the show, please don't sue me. I am lowly and have nowhere near as much as you do ;)

Chapter Nine

Staring fearlessly into dark, nearly dead eyes as blood gurgled from the wound in his throat was quite possibly one of the most revolting experiences she'd ever had, thought Carol as she slowly lowered the gun. Desperate hands clawed at his own throat as the Governor tried helplessly to stem the flow, but the bullet had torn a hole straight through the soft tissue, leaving the flesh blackened, torn and gushing with fresh, red blood.

She took a step toward him, her eyes hard but her heart glad that this man was at last going to be dead, like the friends he'd killed in cold blood. "I'm going to watch you bleed out," she spat disdainfully, wondering briefly if such bloodthirsty revenge was going to put her on a fast track to Hell. She wasn't sure if God was keeping track anymore. "Then I'm going to watch you turn so that Daryl can stomp your head into oblivion. How do you like them apples, Governor?" The hatred she squeezed into his final title alone was enough to make the others in the room look at her twice.

She wasn't quite sure why she hadn't not shot him outright in the head, she'd never been the type to take pleasure in another's suffering—though if she'd been given the chance she might have been a little gleeful if Ed had suffered for any reason and there was the chance she wasn't going to be on the end of his bitter retribution.

It had to be pure insanity and force of will that kept him on his feet, and while he stood he took one agonising step after another, shuffling like a walker to get closer to her, and Carol slowly backed up, the gun raised once again toward him.

"Jesus Christ, Carol." Daryl pushed his way between them, snatched the gun out of her hands and knocked the Governor to the floor with a brutal elbow to his nose. The stomach-turning crunch echoed in the shack and the downed man curled up on the floor, howling and moaning like he was already turned. Daryl glared at her, all their earlier compatibility gone for what Carol could see. She knew it had been a risk, that bringing up Merle's death could drive a wedge between them, and even though she felt the sting of tears blinding her, blinking hard against them spilling, saving Daryl's life had been worth it, no matter what he might say.

He turned the gun on the other man that had been behind Carol. "Are we done now?" he asked and Carol watched as the Hispanic guy grinned and nodded. There was a strangled shout of fury from the floor and Daryl briefly turned, barely had the time to aim and shot the Governor in the head, dead centre between the eyes. Carol jumped as the boom of it ricocheted around the woods, just begging for walkers to come and investigate.

"Yeah, man. We're done."

Daryl nodded, tucking the gun into the waist of his pants before swinging his glare to the other man who had carefully re-entered the shack.

"You can hand me back my crossbow now an' don't ever fuckin' touch it again, you hear?" The slightly hysterical proclamation of possessiveness shocked Carol a little. She knew Daryl prized his weapon almost above anything else, but this level of hatred toward this particular man reeked of a history she was unaware of. And, he sounded like he was barely balancing on some kind of edge and knew she was to blame for it. Bringing up Merle just made his loss all the more raw, too immediate and he'd never shared any of his grief with anyone, let alone allowed himself to feel it in company.

"As for you," he spat angrily as he turned toward her, jabbing his finger hard into her breastbone. She shrunk back, her heart squeezing painfully at the wild look in his eyes. "I'm tellin' myself you've got a head injury so I don't haul off and beat your ass. Only way I can convince myself why you'd act like such a fuckin' dumbass in the first place. I had it handled." He broke contact with her gaze and paced away from her, kicking the dead body on the floor before spinning almost in a circle. "Fuck," he spat and then fell to his knees, holding his head in his hands briefly before bracing the floor as he leaned forward and heaved for air.

"Daryl? You're scarin' me." She was scared, or quite possibly terrified. She'd been afraid of the Governor and then she'd turned it into something stronger so she could have the confidence to do what she needed to do, but Daryl breaking down right in front of her was something she never thought she'd witness. The only time in comparison was when he'd thought he'd lost his brother at the quarry and her hands shook, wondering if she'd shattered him completely.

_You really are a dumbass, ain'tcha, _Merle chuckled into her ear. _You caused this, little darlin', but it ain't got shit to do with me._

He'd been afraid for her. As dawning awareness hit her about just how deeply he felt for her, she smiled. He looked up right at that moment and the frown on his face turned a hundred shades darker. His eyes were stormy and his expression so thunderous that her smile slid from her lips in record time and she actually took a step back away from him.

His gaze swept across the shack, looked once more at their beaten enemy and he spat on the body, his contempt making him even more fearful, and now with his crossbow in his hands he looked damned near terrifying. His countenance had stepped up to furious and he aimed it at the two men, still standing and watching them with some kind of expectation that Carol didn't understand.

"Can you take us back to the car we abandoned at the Motel?"

It was more than obvious as he asked them the question that it wasn't a question at all, not with his loaded crossbow pointed at the guy with the dreadlocks while he locked his steady, hate-filled glare on the Hispanic one, the gun pointed at his head. She wasn't quite certain of the etiquette about a situation like this, but she thought Daryl might not be seeing things as clearly as he could, so she stood in his line of fire and reached her hand out to the guy who had made sure her hands weren't tied as tight as the Governor had meant them to be. They would have been dead without these two planning a mutiny.

"I just wanted to say thanks, for not trussing us up like turkeys." She smiled, but it was a shaky one. She didn't know these men, only that they'd been the Governor's right and left hands, a position no doubt Merle had employed before he'd had to run for his and Daryl's lives.

"Sweetheart, you're welcome," he replied, his big, warm hand engulfing hers as he squeezed it slightly too hard to be comfortable and with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face. "I'm Caesar Martinez, in case you want to cast off your friend there and take a ride with us."

"Well, thanks for the offer, but I'm happy where I am."

Daryl growled at her back, his hand clamping tightly around her elbow and yanking her back. "Have you lost your fucking mind? These assholes have been tryin' to kill us."

_You think happy might have been an overstatement, sugar? Baby brother's 'bout ready to eat you alive._

Without any trouble at all Carol could hear the glee behind Merle's voice in her head and she wondered how, with all that was holy, she'd been gifted with the miracle of having him still existing somehow and speaking to _her _of all people. He was right, though. Daryl wasn't happy, and so it was going to be a bit of a stretch to believe she was going to reach that state anytime soon, especially if she'd destroyed whatever they'd formed while on the run and he turned his back on her for good. The possibility of never having his arms around her again made her shake. Trembling fingers settled across his at her elbow and with her soft touch she hoped to convey some kind of peace toward him.

"I haven't forgotten," she said, keeping her words low and focused only on him. "But they helped save us, too. I just wanted to acknowledge that. I'm celebrating being alive, Daryl."

He didn't say a word, didn't even acknowledge that she'd spoken, breaking his hold on her arm and in effect, pulling away from her touch. He slung his crossbow across his shoulder and stomped out of the cabin, leaving her to trail behind him like a chastened puppy. He opened the door of the SUV that had hit them at the crossroads and before she got in she noticed the small crumpled damage to the front fender. Her hand drifted to her head. The blood was drying and her brain felt a little bruised but she pushed it to the back of her mind as she shuffled across the seat and put on the belt. She'd learnt her lesson—even in the end of days when you could go a lifetime without seeing another car on the road, a girl had to put safety first.

Daryl slid onto the seat beside her, slamming the door and finally it hit her that he'd been on the side of the car that had been hit. As the other two men slid into the front of the vehicle, she risked Daryl's anger and reached for his hand, just brushing her fingers across his in case he pulled away again. Instead, he turned his hand over and clasped her fingers between his, squeezing gently.

"Are you okay? Were you hurt in the crash?"

"Been worse," he admitted, his voice a low rumble that shot straight to her heart.

Carol was lost in his gaze, her body flushing into a gentle heat as he peered questioningly at her.

"How 'bout you? Your head all right?"

Carol grinned, quietly confident that things would be okay as soon as they could get rid of their two chaperones.

"I thought you figured I was brain damaged to do what I did."

Daryl snorted and looked out the window, but he kept her hand in his. "Only explanation for a dumbass move like that."

"I don't know, champ," Martinez interjected from the front. "Looked a whole lot like your girl was trying to protect you. Ladies in love do lots of weird shit."

Both of them thought straight away of Andrea and Carol squeezed his hand even tighter, feeling sick that the words had entered into the air and she wasn't denying them and Daryl wasn't acknowledging them.

"Maybe ya'll need to shut your damn mouths before I shut 'em for ya."

"Come on, man. Just makin' conversation. It's gonna be at least two or three hours to get back to your car."

"Don't need to hear your voice right now, shit for brains. I'm tired, hungry and really fucking irritated, so just shut the hell up."

The black guy shot Martinez an amused grin and Carol tensed.

"So what were you two doing out here all alone in the first place? You runnin' away from your group?" Martinez asked after a few minutes of blissful quiet.

Daryl answered with a growl. "Ain't none of your damn business."

"Just curious, is all."

The thumping in her head was back, Carol realised as their voices bounced back and forth in the vehicle, pushing her slowly into madness as the endless arguing of children came to mind. Fatigue seemed to suddenly swamp her limbs, everything falling lax even while Carol struggled to uphold her head. The air seemed to bristle around her, and feeling panic seep into her heart, Carol squeezed harder on Daryl's hand, barely having the time to register if he responded or shrugged her off before a strange sensation settled over her completely. A burst of red exploded behind her eyes and she whimpered, the pain so great that her stomach roiled. Her body slumped sideways and before she could right herself, everything went dark.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: **I won't lie, I've really struggled with this chapter. Originally I'd intended for them to retire for some little snuggle time once the Governor was dead, but then Carol had to go and collapse as they were heading out of there and it's thrown my whole plan out (not that I have plans, it was just a figure of speech!) So, it's also thrown out my numbers. I liked the idea of finishing on chapter ten. My dilemma now is, do I finish with snuggles, or string something new onto the fic? Depending on what you all think and let me know you might like me to do, I will hold off on deciding ;)

Also, fic recs. I am loving a couple of fics at the moment.

**Damaged **by kaoscraze is so well written and completely deserves more love than it is getting. Give it a shot, people!

**The Art of Opportunity **by ceeceesings is magical. I love all her work and this one has bite.

And for something a little different, I am totally loving this Merle/Michonne fic. **Taking Out The Trash **by phantomphan2000 is all sorts of wonderful. It truly deserves a read if you are a Merle fan!

Chapter Ten

"Excuse me…uh…Daryl?"

He thought about ignoring her, the Woodbury woman riding his last nerve for the last four days to the point where he was convinced he was going to shoot her in the head with his crossbow if she didn't leave him the fuck alone. She'd been in his face from the minute he'd got back, Carol lying limp in his arms, her gaze running warily over their new prison mates as Dumb and Stupid stood there, hands cooperatively up in the air with Rick's gun almost in their faces.

"The fuck you want this time?" he huffed angrily, searching the yard for Rick so he could come deal with the bitch. His nerves were on edge, his feet constantly aiming him toward the infirmary where Carol remained in a coma even, though that was the last place he wanted to go. The war between his heart and his head was getting to be an exhausting one.

"I was just wondering if…" she swallowed, hard, and he brightened slightly that she could at least see she was skating on thin ice around him. She took a tentative step back, trying to not make it obvious, but something feral within him picked it up and grinned maliciously. "Has there been a decision about whether Martinez and Schumpert are staying?"

"Why the hell you askin' me? Go talk to Rick about it." He stomped off but she dogged his every step and he nearly growled like a rabid dog when he felt her fingers grasp desperately at his jacket sleeve and haul him to a stop.

"I did," she said almost breathlessly, fearfully. "He told me to ask you." Daryl's eyes narrowed and he could see she was trembling and he was fucking glad. Glad she was scared shitless of him because these days, it was a constant state of survival for him—being scared shitless that Carol wasn't going to wake up. Scared shitless he was going to have to watch those two pricks that ran their car in the first place wandering about free as birds in _her _home while she rotted away in her own head.

"Sweetheart, if that decision all hinges on me they're as good as dead, now get your fuckin' hands offa me." He swung his arm away from her grasp, swinging his bow off his back in a fluid movement that should have been enough warning to tell her to keep her distance.

"Look, I'm real sorry about Carol but you both should've known better than to be out there anyway," she started and Daryl struggled to keep his fist at his side, his angry eyes flashing at her a caution instead. Stupid bitch chose to ignore it and his temper simmered dangerously. "You can't blame them for going off with Phillip. You saw how bat shit crazy the man was. If it was a choice between being gunned down like the rest of us or going with him and keepin' your life, what the hell would _you _have done?"

"What would I have done?" he snapped. He revelled in how she flinched back as he got right up in her face, his furious expression leaving no more room for interpretation. "I'da put a bullet in the fucker's head after he tried to pit two brothers against each other to the death. I'da thought long and hard about the blood thirsty crazy as fuck townies he'd turned you all into. An' I wouldn'ta gone attackin' a place with women and children just on the say so of an asshole that put kids in his fuckin' army. That's what I woulda done, now get the fuck out of my face so I can go see Carol."

"Jesus, you actually like being scary, don't you?"

Daryl spun on his heel, staring her down with blind hatred making her image blur. All he could think about was that Carol had been out there with him because he'd said yes to her about getting away from this place, he'd taken her out there to give them some space to feel things out between them and instead it was almost a surety that he'd managed to get her killed. Ending the reign of terror from the Governor was a very small recompense for losing the woman that dragged him through each and every day. That made him want to get up in the mornings, if just to bask briefly in her morning smile.

"Oh, I enjoy it about as much as I enjoy watching my friend slip slowly into death when I can't do a damn thing about it." His eyes narrowed at her, then he glared at the cement at his feet, wishing more than anything he could just climb onto his bike and ride right out of the place. Ride until he ran out of fuel or road to follow or memories to haunt him.

"She's in a coma, Daryl. She's not dead yet."

He couldn't summon up the words to tell her to just go and get lost, not with the lump of tears choking his throat. He aimed one last, very precise glare of disgust at her and walked away. Carol wasn't dead yet, and if that woman knew what was good for her, she'd stop asking about the two asshats whose lives hung on that fact.

"You best pray she don't die," he called once he was far enough away that she couldn't touch him again. "She does and your buddies are toast." He ignored her gasp, feeling the threat weigh heavily on his soul, and made his way to Carol.

His step slowed once he reached the infirmary. He stood immobile just outside the door, quietly watching the Woodbury doctor as she circled around her only patient inside and tried to get a hold of himself. He trembled, the sight of Carol lying deathly still and pale in that bed obscuring just about every horrible experience he'd ever known before. It had been four days of the same shit, him sitting by her side, begging her to open her wide, blue eyes and see that he'd brought her to safety once again, that he was saving her the best way he knew how. Nothing ever happened, though, her status never changed and instead he acknowledged that if she ever did open her eyes she'd likely see him behaving like the soft-hearted pussy he'd always vowed to Merle he'd never be, with tears in his eyes and all.

Dr. Stevens glanced up from her clipboard and the notes she was taking as he entered, and she smiled at him. Her gaze swept across the room toward the open window that looked out over the yard and then back to him, her eyebrow raised in question. He sighed and dropped heavily into the chair beside Carol's bed, and with his own head feeling like it'd been stuffed with cotton wool, he took Carol's hand carefully around the IV tube and tried to stop the shaking of his own hands.

"Karen harassing you again?"

He liked Dr. Stevens. The woman was straight up, took no shit, including his, and she was working her ass off to give Carol a fighting chance. He'd been blown away to see the medical system they'd set up in the days he and Carol had been missing, Rick suddenly seeing the wisdom of cleaning out Woodbury of all their medical equipment and making sure they had a workable mini-hospital. Fuck, if Daryl had known they were bringing a doctor with them from Woodbury he might have been even more encouraging to have them at the prison. It was only because of her and Hershel that he had any hope at all of Carol recovering.

"That woman is like a boil on my ass."

Dr. Stevens straight out laughed at him and Daryl was surprised when his face cracked briefly around a smile.

"I have to say, I am surprised she's so determined to save their lives. Caesar can be brutal when he wants to be—he doesn't always think of the consequences of what he's doing." She moved to Carol's head, turned her face gently so that he was staring at her lax features, wan eyelids, those crazy freckles smattered across her nose that he loved so much.

"They're good muscle. If we can trust 'em, they're an asset. If we can't, they ain't," he replied, distracted, his fingers itching to do more than hold her hand. He felt so bone weary and guilty; he hadn't slept much in nearly a week and it was starting to take its toll. "How is she today, Doc?"

"Actually," Dr. Stevens started, her voice infused with hope, "things are looking pretty good so far. Her vital signs have stabilised, there's no more fluid being drained and everything looks as good as we could expect without an MRI or CAT Scans. All we can really do now is wait…and pray."

_Prayin', and wishin' and hopin'._

JC had abandoned him as a kid and it just about set his brain alight to silently acknowledge that he'd prayed like he never had before for Carol to recover. Not that it seemed to be doing any good, because as much as the doc sounded optimistic, Carol hadn't moved a damned muscle since he'd brought her in.

"An' if she does wake up? What then?" He just stared at Carol, hating himself that believing the worst case scenario was more likely to be their future was his natural default.

"I can't predict that," she admitted softly, pulling up a chair to sit beside him and taking an example from him and watching Carol carefully. "She could have brain damage and all this might have been the worst thing to do for her, or, she could be completely fine. Then there's the ocean of possibilities in between."

Daryl's head jerked up at her, fear shadowing his face. "Like what?"

The doctor took a deep breath before she faced him and he could see the worry that etched a line across her forehead. "There are too many possibilities, Daryl. Changes in her personality, behaviour, memory. The brain itself is a very complicated thing. There's really very little point trying to guess until she wakes up and we can observe for ourselves."

"If she wakes up," he grumbled, and then felt like a prick because he was already expecting her to check out and leave them all behind.

"Hey, have some faith in her," Dr. Stevens chided, flicking at his arm with the back of her hand, showing how comfortable she'd become with his daily presence. "I have a funny feeling she's going to surprise you."

He snorted, though his heart felt heavy and bruised. "She always does," he admitted with an affectionate grin.

"You might want to watch out for Karen, too. She's an attractive woman, and quite vocal. I think you might intrigue her a little." Dr. Stevens got back to her feet, letting her hand rest on his shoulder as an offer of comfort before departing with a reassuring squeeze.

"What's she gonna do?" He crinkled his brow in confusion and wondered what in the hell being attractive had to do with anything. She reminded him of Lori and he had a feeling Rick wasn't taking that resemblance too well by the way he kept fobbing the bitch off onto him.

Dr. Stevens returned to her patient with a new bag of saline and went about replacing the nearly empty one. She didn't answer Daryl directly, just stroked Carol's cheek and spoke to her instead.

"Your man has an admirer. You need to wake up and stake your claim, honey."

Daryl huffed in irritation. "Ain't no way in hell," he denied hotly, but even still he couldn't stop the flush that spread across his face. He wasn't completely stupid. Did his ego a boost to think that there was someone out there interested in him, saw some worth, but if she didn't have Carol's eyes, that soft expression whenever she looked his way, he wasn't interested.

"I'll leave you two kids alone then, shall I? Try to keep it clean," she said with a suggestive wink, chuckling as she slinked out of the door. Daryl watched her go, his expression one infused with fear. He'd spent hours alone with Carol while she'd lain like a corpse on this bed, and every time he expected it to be the last. He'd always been a coward, had never fought for what he wanted—it never occurred to him that anything he'd ever wanted in his past life had never been something he could control. Still couldn't. He didn't know how to fight something like this.

"So, it's just you and me, babe. Finally," Daryl said dramatically with a roll of his eyes. Trust for them to finally get time alone and one of them had to be comatose. The doc had told him numerous times that he should talk to Carol, tell her things to try and coax her back to them, but he'd never been much of a talker, so the brief was harder for him than most. He mostly sat and watched her, replayed the last week over in his head for the moments when he'd actually felt free enough to reveal himself to her, and she'd accepted him. She'd accepted him, and suddenly coaxing her back to him was the most important role he had in the world.

"You need to wake your ass up, Carol. Ass-kicker's been cryin' for you, and Beth don't know shit about raisin' a baby. Rick's still chasin' his goddam tail with all these new folks and tryin' to set the place up right, so he's no help with her. An' Carl's runnin' around bein' scary and shit." He paused, taking a deep breath to hold back the emotion threatening to spill out in ways he wasn't prepared for others to see. "You an' me had an understandin'. This lyin' around scaring the fuck out of me wasn't part of the deal. You don't get to do this now. Not now."

His voice broke and he flopped forward onto the bed, his wet face landing against her blanketed thigh. His fingers curled up within hers, and it wasn't lost on him that hers never moved, that there was no tensing of the digits to give any indication of life at all. Monitors tracking her heartbeat continued to beep around him but he was lost to it all, finding no comfort in the reminder that she was here, but not. He snuggled up to her, trying to steal as much of her lingering life as he could without his heart tearing out of his chest. His heart throbbed painfully as he tried to shut out the alternatives—her not waking up ever, turning and him having to be the one that made sure she couldn't hurt anyone. Except him. She was hurting him with everything she was not doing right this minute. Everything about it was wrong and he couldn't prevent it when his body succumbed to a bone rattling shudder as he sniffled pathetically against her blanket.

"Not now," he mumbled again, his face covered, his body aching with the need to hold her.

Above him, dazed and confused, cornflower blue eyes opened softly onto the world.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: **I owe you all an apology for taking so long to get this done. My main excuse, I think, is smut burn out. To those of you who read my last fic, Aching Hearts, Blossoming Dreams, there was so much smut in that that I think it's temporarily (I hope) zapped my brain of any further smutty potential. Instead of just hanging onto this and hoping I'd be able to shove some smut in there somehow, I decided to post it as is so I can move back to Edge or my Marol fic (please, if you can give Merle and Carol a try together, give the fic a go. I think it's the best thing I've written to date) and also my Buffy/ WD Crossover fic. Did I miss anything out? I feel so very tired so it's a possibility. If this disappoints so much, I can attempt to add an Epilogue once my mojo returns.

I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone for the most amazing amount of support with this fic. Reviews-wise, it's by far my most popular. I'm not sure I quite understand why, but I won't knock it! I have very much appreciated all your comments—I've been completely blown away.

So, with nothing more to chatter about, I bring you the final chapter. I hope it finishes off the story adequately for you all. Much love, Megan.

Chapter Eleven

She could hear the clicks in her head, like the beat of a metronome counting down her remaining days. The beats actually hurt, throbbed, convinced her that whatever precipice she was drifting towards would be the last one she ever faced. And as a background to it all, she heard Merle. She'd have thought she'd hear Daryl, but when things actually cleared enough to make sense to her, she realised that Daryl hardly ever talked unless he was forced to, so why would now be any different? And besides, the deep, booming tones of Merle's interesting views on life would drown out even the most persistent bedside companion. Daryl never stood a chance.

_Whatcha doin' lyin' there takin' a nap for, little mouse? _

Was he serious? It wasn't like she'd chosen to have their car rammed and her head to bang into whatever the hell it had banged into. Wasn't like she rolled along and lazily thought, 'hey, I might pass out and maybe never wake up again,' just for the hell of it. It wasn't like she'd ever choose to leave Daryl, not if she'd had a choice about it. Not now the Governor was dead and definitely not now there was a chance that Daryl might have feelings for her that matched the ones she'd long held for him.

_Need to wake your ass up then, sugar. Might be some in this place wantin' to catch baby brother's eye if you ain't around to keep their asses in line._

Wakefulness seemed a closer goal than it had before, so Carol concentrated, wondering what it would actually take for her to make that first step and just open her eyes, and so while she was contemplating hard on the making that action, it happened. Her lids fluttered then lifted, the sudden light blinding her and confusing her until she realised that for the first time she was seeing the inside of the new prison infirmary. Also, the top of Daryl's head. He hadn't noticed her yet and so she took her time to observe him as he huddled over her body and begged her to wake up. It broke her heart to hear the defeat in his voice. She had no idea how long she'd been out and her head still throbbed like it had a marching band trapped in there, but hearing Daryl and the raw, emotional call for her to not leave him pushed all her discomfort away. She wasn't sure why she was surprised that he was there, by her side, except that usually during any kind of calamity that happened to any of them he was a whirlwind of activity, trying to fix the world with chewing gum when what they needed were miracle bandaids. Just sitting, letting down his guard, baring his heart wasn't the Daryl she knew at all, and knowing that he was like this for her, bound him in her heart forever.

Slowly Carol became aware of a slow, penetrating numbness across her whole body and as soon as she acknowledged it in her head, pins and needles burst to painful life along every limb and her body started an involuntary twitch. A low groan of discomfort slipped passed dry lips and Daryl's head shot up. He stared at her with disbelieving, watery bloodshot eyes and Carol tried to reward him with a smile. Her fingers jerked around his and she realised he was holding her hand, and even though she was only newly conscious, a flush rose on her cheeks.

"Hey." His voice was roughened around the edges. Sparks of remembered desire during their time on the run together filtered through and she trembled like a pathetic woman who'd been trapped in a coma for days. She felt stupid, but invigorated with the knowledge that she was alive.

"Hey, yourself," she answered with her own croaky, rusty vocal chords and then grinned just for the hell of it. Daryl was with her; he hadn't left her side even though she could tell they were back at the prison and he no doubt had plenty to do to help Rick around the place. He was still with her, caring about whether she woke up and apparently feeling quite deeply about the possibility that she might not have.

"How're you feelin'?" He raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles, Carol watching him with awe, a maelstrom of excited activity taking off in her womb.

"Like I've been asleep for a hundred years, and while I was lyin' here, someone drove a truck over my head."

Daryl nodded, his expression completely serious. "That's exactly what happened," he deadpanned, then his lips quirked in a boyish smile that made Carol's heart flip in her chest.

"So, are you my gallant prince come to wake me with a kiss?" Her eyes sparkled while she teased him, relieved he was sticking to the Daryl she'd gotten to know while they were on the run from the Governor and his men.

"Took more'n one," he admitted petulantly but with a fiery blush to his cheeks and Carol giggled, weakly lifting their entwined fingers until she rested his knuckles against his chest. The fabric of his shirt was rough against her fingertips but it was so good to feel his heartbeat that she suddenly shook his fingers loose so she could spread her whole palm there. The steady thrum of his life warmed her hand and Carol sucked in a breath of wonder, her gaze fixated on the place her hand rested against his warm body.

"Did I hear something about some woman making a play for you if I didn't wake up?"

Daryl ducked his head, his eyes surfing the floor in a sudden return of his shyness. "Yeah," he admitted, voice raspy. "All sorts of crazy shit's been goin' down since you decided to up and take a nap."

"Oh." Carol thought about that, tried to recall the faces and names of all the new people that had made the prison their home since suddenly becoming leaderless when the Governor killed half of their group. There were lots of women. That's all she could recall. Her brow crinkled with a sudden crisis of confidence, but deep down she believed in Daryl, believed in how he'd let her in, and knew him well enough to know he wouldn't ever just throw her aside for some pretty face that suddenly appeared. "Should I be worried?"

The first thing she saw was the corners of Daryl's mouth curl up in an irrepressible grin, and then when he finally chanced to meet her gaze, his eyes sparkled with humour. "Do I really look the type to run around on my comatose girlfriend?"

Carol snorted weakly, mindful that she'd been unconscious for some untold period of time, her body weak even if her brain did seem surprisingly alert. "I don't know, Dixon. Took you two years to see what was right there in front of your face. Now you've had a taste, maybe you're not so patient anymore."

"Maybe I'm still waitin' to cash in that raincheck someone's been promisin' me, danglin' things in front of me like a carrot in front of a mule," he kidded though his lips were turned up in amusement and his butt was wiggling a niche beside her thigh on her narrow bed. ""How the hell d'you hear that, anyway? The Doc was here hours ago. You ain't been awake that long."

"Merle."

He looked scared for a moment, then the expression was carefully wiped clear from his face and his eyes softened in memory of his brother.

"This part of that brain injury shit the doc was warnin' me you might be sufferin' when you woke up?"

"Definitely worth considering, but I'm pretty sure I was hearin' him before I passed out. Before I got hit in the head, too."

Daryl's eyes widened and he stared at her like he wasn't quite sure if she was going crazy or if he should envy her the unexpected link to his brother.

"What kinda shit's he tellin' you?" There was a tinge of jealousy that he couldn't quite hide and Carol ran her palm up Daryl's chest to curl around his neck, tugging him close enough to rest against her forehead as she lay exhausted against her pillow. He cooperated, his lids growing heavy as he breathed in deeply at the unaccustomed closeness.

"He's my little redneck voice of reason," she whispered against his lips. "Kicking my butt when I need it, tellin' me it's time to wake up for you. Makin' sure I keep my head out of my ass."

A gentle smile blossomed on Daryl's lips as a happy tear squeezed from the corner of Carol's eye.

"Sounds like my big bro," grumbled Daryl, and then he drew back, depositing a chaste kiss on her cheek before he sat up fully and Carol panicked that he was about to leave.

"I need ghost Merle around like I need a hole in the head," Carol desperately proclaimed with faux-irritation, shooting Daryl a filthy look though really she was feeling a little honoured to be hearing Merle's little messages.

Daryl sniffed, ducked his head to stare at the floor, struggling with whatever trauma he'd had to deal with while she was gone, and then finally he looked up, a huge smile transforming his face.

"Get ready for double vision, then, 'cause you needed two of them holes to cure you of a swelled head." He delivered the punch line with a wink and Carol snorted loudly before being forced to regret her acknowledgement of his attempt at humour with a drawn out groan of pain. She raised a cautious hand to her head and hesitantly prodded around through short, spikey hair, not wanting to investigate too close in case she ended up sticking her fingers inside her own skull.

"How long was I out?" The bags under Daryl's eyes and the exhausted slump of his shoulders indicated it was a while, but then their general health wasn't the greatest these days and she felt so weak anyway that maybe she looked a ton worse than him and didn't even know it.

"Coupla days," he admitted finally, looking out the window rather than at her. It told her things—told her that it had been long enough for him to almost lose hope she'd ever come out of it, that he'd suffered emotionally at her potential loss. "Doc said your brain was swellin' and she needed to drill some holes in your head to relieve the pressure." He peered at her intently, something obviously on his mind that was really bothering him. "Had to bring back those two that were with the Governor. Rick's had them paired up with either Glenn or Tyreese to take watch. Ain't trustin' 'em yet, but I think he wants to let 'em stay."

She could tell it chafed his hide something fierce to have them within the prison fences, men that had probably been as close to friends as Merle had had in that town. Men that had almost killed them when they'd followed the Governor's orders and hit their car. No matter how much he wanted them gone, though, Carol knew she and Daryl would have been dead or walking the Earth as animated dead by now without them.

"They helped us, Daryl. They deserve a chance."

He glared at her, his mouth a hard line but eventually he nodded. He stood up abruptly.

"I'm gonna go fetch the doc, let her know you're awake an' maybe she'll unhook you from all these machines." Before she could raise her hand or beg him to stay, he marched out the door looking for somewhere else to be.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

While Dr. Steven's had given her a clean bill of health two weeks after she woke up, Hershel and Rick insisted Carol take it easy for another week at least, forcing her to rest instead of being involved in the cooking, in watch, in clearing the growing number of walkers now beginning to crowd against the fences. In caring for the small crowd of children that now added laughter and innocence to their prison existence. She was feeling guilty and useless, watching her small world turn without much effort at all on her part and everyone else bustling about their business while she was forced to the sidelines, still feeling weak and angry at herself for causing that weakness in the first place. No, she wasn't being rational, but she had cabin fever almost as bad as before when she and Daryl had fled the prison in the darkness of night. She saw things that confused her, teased her and made her jumpy and distrustful. Most of the Woodbury people had fit into prison life with surprising ease, the majority still gratefully thanking Rick on a daily basis for taking them in. They'd all jumped in with willing hands, helping to halve the work, keeping the place safe. Some were making a beeline to try and get in good with Daryl—who was in good with Rick, and then there were the women. They weren't blatant, just _there, _working alongside him, helping him—Sascha, Michonne, Karen. Since leaving the infirmary, the prison was busy, so while Carol didn't doubt that Daryl was all in with her, they spent next to no time together and it was really starting to play on her confidence.

Even her dealings with Judith had been kept at a minimum, Beth taking over most of the duties and leaving Carol with little else but changing diapers or folding clothes. Beth did the feeding, most of the nursing and settling, and Carol felt as useful as a used up, washed out dirty old rag. It didn't help to sit at the table at dinner, listening to Glenn and Maggie talking about the walker threat along the fence, the run to The Spot and how they nearly didn't make it out. Everyone was still living on some kind of sharpened edge except for her, nestled away and wrapped in bubble wrap like she was too precious to move.

Just like before, panic started to build in Carol's chest. Her vision started to swim as she desperately tried to cling hold of the faces of these people that sat down with her eating their dinner while sharing their day, but the tears made it difficult. A startling flash of light lit up the interior of the common room and then within seconds a tremendous boom of thunder made the windows rattle. a Carol dropped her fork, the utensil bouncing with a clang against her plate before pitching unhampered to the floor.

"Where's Daryl?" she asked suddenly, jumping to her feet, and Maggie seemed to launch to her own, even though her eyebrows were knit together in confusion.

"He's on watch, but Karen already took him up his dinner."

Carol's hands curled into fists at her side and her chin fell to her chest for a minute while she contemplated. Taking a deep breath, steadying herself against the panicked shuddering through her limbs, she scanned the others in the room and quickly picked out Karen, letting her breath slide from her lungs in one relieved gush.

"It's raining," Carol announced, leaving her seat and immediately heading out of the prison. She caught a glimpse of Maggie's frown as the brunette checked the windows and found that there were no raindrops yet before shrugging her shoulders and dropping back down in her seat. Carol knew she was acting a little crazy—and that her acting crazy had already almost got them killed once before—but suddenly the need to be with Daryl and out from the watchful eyes of the others was overwhelming.

The sky had already darkened with the world's interpretation of God's fury when Carol threw open the door from the prison and rushed out into howling wind. She was momentarily stunned at how cold it was and how quickly it burrowed beneath her clothing. She shivered, then jumped as lightning slashed furiously through the sky and the ground shuddered beneath her feet with the strike and answering crack of thunder. It seemed louder than she'd ever known a storm to be and it was frightening, being outside and exposed in such raw elements as rain and electricity, but Carol had a goal and that was enough to pry her feet from where they'd stuck to the cement just outside the cellblock's door. She hurried down the steps and ran to the tower, gasping in shock the second freezing needles of rain stabbed at her from the sky.

She was soaked by the time she made it across the yard and to the top of the tower, the light fading fast. Daryl leaned against the far wall, watching the doorway as she flung her body through it. She stopped just as suddenly as another booming clap of thunder shook the small building, hitting her like a blow to the body, and fear shot through her before Daryl's warm gaze centred her and made her feel instantaneously safe. His head was tipped to the side, checking out her sodden appearance, her hair curling slightly where it was growing back from the burr holes that had saved her life.

"Hey." His greeting was steeped in amusement, and before her his gaze hit the floor and he chewed the insides of his cheeks to hold back the grin she could see making the corners of his mouth twitch. Carol could see how her insane rush out into the elements would seem rather rash and entertaining, not that it slowed down her pulse any.

She couldn't stifle the burst of laughter that bubbled free from her as she contemplated him—looking for all the world like a little boy that had just had a treasure trove of toys dumped right into his lap when he'd been on the cusp of being bored to death.

"Hey yourself," she countered, then waited, wondering if he was on the same page as her and desperately trying not to get disappointed at the possibility that he wasn't. It had been weeks since they'd killed the Governor, weeks since they'd accepted Martinez and Schumpert into the group, and plenty of time for her to recover from her near death experience. As far as she was concerned, it was time for Daryl to put his money where his mouth was or cut her free. God, she hoped he didn't cut her free.

"Is it time for my raincheck?"

Without warning her heart started thumping even more frantically and she placed her hand absently against it, desperately trying to calm down. Daryl took a hesitant step toward her, his gentle blue eyes wary of her fainting clean away, she suspected, and Carol gasped as his fingers made contact with her bare arm.

"You run all the way out here without a coat?"

She nodded stupidly, unable to tear her gaze from him, wanting so much to not talk but to touch, to hold. She barely felt the cold, barely registered the howling wind and rain that was now barraging the tower and making the windows rattle jarringly in their frames. All she could see was Daryl, the way his clothes were haphazardly thrown together but which always _worked _in some magical way to increase her temperature, that red rag dangling from his back pocket and drawing her drooling gaze to his ass. The way he wore leather hitched her breath in her chest, the straggly hair that grew too long but seemed just the way he liked it and made her itch to run her fingers through it, dirt and all. The smudge of dirt or blood on his cheek that he always wore like warrior paint, and the scruff he had fostered that surrounded tender lips that she was dying to taste and be reminded that they felt as soft as they looked. She knew she was staring at him like she was starving, and then the thought of food reminded her that Karen had brought him his meal and her heart squeezed painfully tight.

"Karen brought you dinner." Would there be no end to these stupid statements that seemed to erupt from her mouth? She wasn't used to being the one that acted awkwardly, having stayed comfortable in her role of the teasing, suggestive friend, but suddenly it all meant too much, maybe more than it should, but they'd started something outside the prison walls while the Governor was hunting them down and Carol found herself wholeheartedly decided to not let it go.

"That she did." He watched her, a smirk sitting confidently on his lips—confidence something that she was newly anticipating in her encounters with Daryl.

"I thought that was my job." Her voice was husky and breathless, petulant and accusatory, and Carol knew if she hadn't been obvious before, a man as observant as Daryl Dixon would have picked up on it for sure by now.

"Don' worry," Daryl said, amusement strong in his tone as he watched her shuffle from one foot to the next. "I set her straight."

"Oh." Carol's anxiety deflated like a balloon, relief making her feel almost giddy. "That's…good. Thanks."

"Ain't nothin'." Daryl shoved his hands in his pockets and took a tentative step forward. "You didn't answer my question."

As she stood still, watching him warily while he moved closer to her, she shook with a more powerful jolt of nerves than she'd ever experienced in her life. This was stupid. They'd kissed, they'd been hot and heavy when they'd been hiding from the Governor, they'd touched each other and had made a promise to each other. Why had a knock to her head and a subsequent coma robbed her of all the courage she'd worked up and apparently expended already?

Her throat was dry and her lungs felt like all her air had been slowly seeping out and only now they were empty did she get a warning that she still had to breathe. The air around her seemed to hum with electrical sparks as he stopped in front of her and stared intently into her eyes.

"I didn't?" The words sounded strangled coming from her throat and were delivered into the heaviness of the air between them, Carol cringing in embarrassment.

"It's rainin'."

Yes. Yes, it was raining. Carol was pretty sure she'd said something similar inside to the people that were too crowding, too nosy, too everywhere when she needed them to be somewhere _else. _Realisation hit her hard and heavy and her eyes widened comically. Could she have _been _any more obvious? All those people were going to think she was a fool, an idiot prone to panic attacks and running to Daryl the instant things looked like they were getting out of her control.

"I think it's a storm."

Daryl eyed her incredulously, his face transformed with a huge grin. "No shit. A storm? In Georgia?"

The sky erupted with a sky-splitting arc of lightning and an immediate, crushing boom and Carol jumped high in the air, catapulting herself at Daryl who caught her against him with a chuckle., holding her in a crushing hug as the world rumbled and crumbled around them. Together they watched in awe as a tree just outside the fence yawned loudly to the left before it crashed to the ground, pinning at least two walkers beneath it. Heavy rain pelted down around the tower, already forming deep puddles. Carol's pulse rose in tandem with the vicious rhythm of nature punishing the land outside their shelter. Without warning the clamour of the whistling wind, the violent rain, nature colliding and stabbing through the elements, diminished to a distant white noise in her head until all Carol could hear was her own steady but pounding heartbeat. She was oblivious to everything but the powerful arms that held her to his chest, to the warmth that spread through every contact point until she was reverberating with need, the alluring scent of an earthy, vibrant man infiltrating every last sense until she was nearly sagging with irrepressible desire against him.

She had no more use for words, Carol decided. Everything that had come out of her mouth in the last half hour seemed to be steeped in stupidity anyway, so she was doing neither of them any favours by trying to keep the conversation going. Actions had always been more honest between them—the kiss bestowed upon his bandaged head, keeping her on the back of his bike to ensure her safety, her making sure he ate when, if left to his own devices, he'd wither away before he'd let anyone else go hungry, carrying her out of the tombs and into the safety of the group—the many, many simmering looks between them that implicated so much heart and love between them but which neither one of them had ever had the courage to explore. Until now. Now she wasn't waiting any longer. Her body was moulded around his, some of the dampness from her run through the yard to get to him being soaked up by his own clothing.

His throat smelled spicy beneath her nose and Carol gently pressed her lips against the throbbing pulse. Her lips fell open as she registered his sharp, indrawn breath and in a strange, out of body-like state, she darted out her tongue and licked, then bit the spot until her jaw ached from holding back. She was blitzed with his response—not quite sure if it was meant as a reward or punishment when he growled, throat rumbling against her lips, hips bucking toward hers and pressing his hardness into her belly, her back hitting the now closed tower door.

Her thought processes slowed down so much that everything appeared hazy—everything but the heavy breaths blasting across her face before desperate lips latched hold of hers and he let everything go. His lips felt like fire against hers; Carol shivered, her damp shirt sticking to her back between her shoulder blades as a chill swept across her flesh. The contrast of his warmth against her cooled, clammy skin was so sudden, so absolute that Carol shook violently despite clinging to his kiss. She felt the balls of his shoulders tense under her fingers as she clung to him, the palms of his hands at her waist hauling her closer to his body, and through it all was the mindless pleasure his kiss evoked, his mouth moving so slowly, sensually, begging her to let go and become as lost as he was. The tip of his tongue flicked between her lips and Carol felt the tension in her stomach dissolve completely, billowing heat blasting up through her body until the cold of her clothes and the biting wind was a distant memory and only the compulsive beauty of Daryl's taste against her tongue was tattooed into her brain.

He broke away with desperate pants, his chest heaving against hers as the glaze of passion and promise slowly faded from her hooded gaze. He didn't say a word, his diaphragm the only part of him moving as he tried to regain control of his breathing and while he stared intently into her eyes. A knowing smile turned up the corners of his beautiful mouth and Carol couldn't stop the finger that found itself tracing the outline of his bottom lip. She knew she was behaving very anti-Carol but for some reason she was unable to stop herself, wanting no more lines, no more barriers blurring their feelings for each other.

Eventually, finally, Daryl was ready to talk, and when he did, Carol could see the raw hope he was unable to hide from her—but only because now, after all they had been through together, there was nothing left between them in which to hide behind. He was as exposed as he might have once been as a toddler, and while Carol's heart hurt at the pain he'd had to bury deep within himself his entire life, she was grateful that of all the people left in the world, it was her that got to see him for who he truly was.

"Please tell me this is our raincheck."

A shaking hand rose from between their bodies to cup his cheek and Carol moaned quietly at the feel of his fledgling beard as her thumb rubbed through the course strands.

"Everyone in there knows I ran out here like a crazed woman to be with you. If we had a cover, it's completely blown. I'm sorry." Well, she kind of wasn't, knowing somehow that if Daryl was given the option to hide whatever it was they were from everyone in the prison, he'd seize it, from habit if nothing else.

He shrugged carelessly, staring at her like he was more concerned she was there to actually deliver her whole body to him at last than if she'd broadcast to everyone in the prison that that was exactly what she planned to do.

"Think they all got the memo with how I pretty much bunked down with you in the infirmary. Ain't none of their business what we do, anyhow."

Warm fingers crept beneath her shirt after he pulled the wet fabric off her skin. It was a revelation to feel his touch on her bare flesh, and Carol wanted more of it.

"How much longer do you have on watch?" An urgent whisper, her fingertips trailing across his face, her mouth drawn to the jump of his pulse at the base of his throat.

"Rick'll be out soon. Maybe we can go move all our stuff in together. Your cell or mine?" His head was tipped to the side, contemplating her as a flush spread across her cheeks.

"You trying to make some kind of declaration?" Her heart was hammering a hole right through her chest, she just knew it, and Carol tried not to hold her breath, feeling woozy already with how desperate she was to hear what she wanted to hear but never thought she'd actually live to hear it.

"Wasn' plannin' on tellin' those nosy assholes shit, but I ain't plannin' on sleepin' on my own now, neither. You okay with that?"

"Oh." Her breaths hurt, her chest feeling like it was crushed so tight she only had seconds left to relieve the pressure before it killed her. He wanted her—in his bed, in his life, and he was okay with every single person they knew being aware of it. Carol watched as the blue of his eyes went molten with desire and hope. His arms remained loose around her while his fingers swept a line up and down her spine and she had to fight to stop herself from turning into a blubbering mess in his arms. In reply, she flung herself at him, holding him as tight as she dared, and delivered rapid, hungry kisses to his throat and chin.

"I'm okay with that," she told him huskily, almost growling into his ear, and, like the most beautiful music to ever reach her ears, he laughed as Rick banged shut the door downstairs and their leader's boots struck a steady rhythm of approach on the stairs.


	12. Epilogue

AN: Well, what have I done? The mojo came back…sorta…and so I figured I should actually do something to earn that M Rating. This one is dedicated to my best buddy Tam, aka RaizingKain2001 (I think that's right?) who had me giggling away most of tonight. Anyway, I am a terrible judge so would appreciate hearing what you might think of this. Keep it? Delete it? Let me know!

Epilogue

"I can't believe you let me off prison grounds. I thought I was serving hard time for my crimes." Carol buried her face into the back of Daryl's vest and breathed him in, a grin on her lips and her arms embracing his waist in a tight hug. The bike idled in front of a lonely store—the only sign of civilization for miles—as Daryl contemplated the risk of stopping and staying.

"Pffft. I ain't never been able to stop your ass from doin' whatever you want to do. You keep squeezin' me like that, though, an' I might have to lock you up when we get back."

"Promise?"

"Stop."

Carol chuckled and climbed out from behind him, immediately missing the thrum of the bike's motor as it vibrated between her legs. Daryl's warmth was a substantial loss, too, but she had plans to remedy that. Having had the decision on whether to stop made for him, he sighed before he shut off the bike and ambled along behind her. He plucked his bow off the back of his bike, checked that his knife was hanging at his hip, then aimed a serious and pointed look at Carol. She rolled her eyes and moved behind him, her hand resting on his hip, the little intimacy thrilling her completely. It wasn't routine, this hanging onto him, but Carol found it was so natural to her now that she couldn't stop reaching out to touch him, to connect with him whenever he was near. His presence was a compulsion that she just couldn't let go of. She loved him so deeply she almost sank into him every chance she got, and lately he'd been giving her lots of chances.

"What story did you tell Rick to let us leave?" she asked, listening carefully for any signs of moans or shuffling dead feet behind them.

"Like I need his permission," Daryl scoffed and Carol hid another smile. He paused, shoulders stiff, then suddenly they slumped and he lowered his head in defeat. "Told him we needed to go find shit for the kids."

"Ahhh, a run," she said knowingly, choking on the urge to laugh out loud. "Code for wanting to get out and screw around without a prison full of eyes watching on and taking notes."

Daryl's boots scraped against gravel as he dragged to a stop and Carol waited with baited breath. He spun on his heel, gave her a menacing look then abruptly hauled her in for a hard kiss. "You're an evil witch," he declared before kissing her again, leaving her breathless and with eyes full of dreams.

"Hmmm," she murmured, a giddy grin quirking her lips. "But I bet you love the spell I put on you."

Daryl rolled his eyes, contemplating her with a hungry look that made his baby blues burn with promised retribution. "Rick knows the score," he pointed out, a not-so-subtle pout on his lips for being caught out. "Man's just jealous he ain't got the balls to start goin' on runs with Michonne."

Carol did laugh then, knowing full well how Rick's eyes followed their resident Xena-Warrior Woman around like she was his own personal guide to the Holy Grail. She danced up close to him, a compulsive, happy smile lightening her face. "You wanna talk about who has balls now?"

"Woman, you outta know." He gently shoved her away with his elbow, smiling shyly as his ears turned pink right at the tips. She was utterly enthralled at how he still blushed like a little boy, despite being as physically and emotionally exposed to each other as they had been. He continued on to the store and Carol held back as he shook the door, then waited to see if anything came stumbling toward it. Everything stayed quiet for a tense couple of minutes and then Daryl struggled with the door a minute before it suddenly let loose and opened. The store was small, little more than a convenience out in the middle of nowhere, and while Carol covered the front for any signs of life—or death—he searched the inside.

"All clear," he called out finally and Carol entered, scanning quickly the shelves and finding none of top of the list essentials they were always on alert for but discovering plenty of things people often passed right over—colouring in books and coloured pencils, a few games to pass the time, and about three skipping ropes. She grinned happily, already seeing in her mind the children back at the prison doing something other than weapons training and garden maintenance. A little playtime was healthy for a child's development—as well as teaching them how to survive.

Daryl strutted up behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle and pulled her back into his chest, his lips nuzzling at her neck. "You need a reminder?"

"Here?" Of course here, she knew they hadn't really come all the way out there just to look for kids games, but it was far more fun to string him along and play the naïve girlfriend occasionally.

"Yeah, there's a room in back with a bed and everything," he growled in her ear and a shiver of desire wriggled its way down her spine.

"You need a bed now?" There was an incredulous edge to her mocking and she could feel his body shake against hers with silent laughter.

"Thought you were a lady," he accused, blowing warm air against the line of her neck he'd just been licking and nibbling. "Plenty o'trees outside. A bit of wildlife with their sex never hurt anyone."

"I beg to differ. I swear I still have splinters in my back from the last time," she teased cheekily.

"Yeah," he admitted, suddenly remorseful and sheepish. His forehead hit her shoulder and she could feel the heat from his body press against her. "You know I'm sorry 'bout that."

Carol twirled around, reaching up to wind her arms around his neck, and melted at the warm look in his eyes as he looked down on her through the shaggy hairstyle he seemed to now prefer. He'd come so far but still liked to hide when things pushed him too hard.

"You don't have to keep apologising."

"Yeah, I do. Shoulda known better. Shoulda been more careful with you." He was severely disappointed in himself for hurting her, Carol knew it, and she couldn't help but think it made him even more adorable.

"It wasn't like I didn't get anything out of it." Her hand wandered playfully down his chest, stroking his belt buckle suggestively. He swatted her away playfully before backing her toward the back room.

"Oh yeah? What? An appreciation for the outdoors?"

Her nose crinkled up and she grinned. "An abiding love of nature might be something we never share. I don't ever want to sleep in a tent again for as long as I live."

He looked disappointed and Carol threw her arms around him and hugged him hard, trying desperately to hide the laughter that was building from the depths of her belly. It was amazing to her how happy within this relationship she was. It was a happiness she'd never felt before with a man.

"What? You too good for that now? What if we have to leave the prison?"

Carol froze, the actual thought not too far from her mind lately. With so many people joining their fledgling community, more walkers seemed to be attracted to them, starting to pile up and threaten the stability of the fence. If a major herd descended on them at once, they didn't have a chance on getting everyone out, and even if they did, a wandering band of thirty to forty people were a walking target just asking to die. They'd be roughing it even worse than they had before.

She looked up, her expression intent and heartfelt. "If we do, I follow you. It doesn't matter what we have to do or where we have to go, as long as I'm with you, I'll be happy. With so many people, though…" Carol's thoughts scattered the second his lips pressed against hers, insistently forcing the words off her tongue as he tangled it up with his. She willingly surrendered the worrying thoughts, happily gave in to the smooth, slow way Daryl knew how to seduce her with his mouth.

When he drew back, breath ragged, Carol ran her fingers slowly from his brow, down over his cheek and ended up lingering at his lips. Her heart was thumping hard in her chest, telling her now was the time to forget about everything else but each other, to head to that back room and make use of the bed Daryl had found. Whatever her heart was telling her was too late, however, one beat behind as Daryl swept her off her feet and strode determinedly toward the bed. He didn't throw her on it like she'd expected he would. He carefully set her upright, moving so that he'd pressed his forehead against hers, the intimacy another link in the magic he'd created between them.

"Saw you talkin' to Maggie before we left. They okay?"

His concern squeezed at her heart. Carol cupped his face in both her hands and drew him in for a slow, sweet kiss.

"She's not pregnant." She kissed him again, loving the sigh he released into her mouth and the slow, tentative way he began to explore her taste, her softness with his tongue. He caressed her lips with his own, licked the inside of her bottom lip and sent rivers of desire bolting through her bloodstream.

"That what they wanted?" The words were husky, as if coming from a dry as dust throat, fighting through a haze of billowing lust.

"Yeah. Think so." Her top was suddenly whipped over her head and tossed to the floor as her staccato words seemed to filter through the fog and register in his head.

"How 'bout you?"

His shirt and vest slid off his broad shoulders without any trouble and she was working on his belt buckle when the question bossed its way through her preoccupation with getting him naked.

"Huh?"

His irises had darkened with desire and Carol felt lost in them, felt her senses zero out until she felt warm and fuzzy and brilliantly alive. Time seemed to ground out to a slow motion event that she barely could break through to touch him. Her hand fluttered against his chest, hovering over his heart and her breath hitched uncomfortably as her finger traced his collarbone and her lips found the pounding pulse at the base of his throat.

"You ever wonder…about us…" His rough hands swept up her sides and came together at her back, releasing the clasp on her bra. She loved how it felt when his thick, calloused fingers rubbed against her nipples, teasing them into sweet agony.

"I try not to think about it." Fire licked down the trail of his fingertips as he ran them up and down her sides, across her breasts, squeezing lightly before diverting back to her pants. The snap was released and they dropped to her ankles. She shuddered in his arms as he bit gently on her shoulder, working his mouth and tongue up her neck until his voice was a low, husky grumble in her ear.

"It ain't like we're bein' too careful."

He attacked her with a kiss before she could reply and as he sucked on her tongue, his hands all over her like the impatient hunter that he was, Carol tried to work out what exactly was his point.

"Hmmm, low risk. Why, you want a baby now, Pookie?"

He stopped what he was doing and stepped back so abruptly Carol nearly fell over, having relied so much on his strong body to keep her pliant, desire-soaked limbs upright. He was panting hard, his body showing all evidence that he wanted her, and wanted her now, and yet he was looking at her with a blush burning on his face where she could see through his overgrown whiskers and the usual dirt and bangs. He looked so adorable, standing there naked, pants around his boots, a scowl on his face.

"Pookie? Seriously? I ask you how you'd feel about possibly gettin' pregnant and you call me Pookie?"

"Would you prefer Boo?" He looked so insulted that Carol couldn't hold in the laugh, her hand quickly trying to cover her mouth before she could do much damage.

"I'm tryin' to be serious."

She threw herself into his arms, her own winding around his neck to hold herself securely against him and she rested her forehead against his heart. "I know. I'm sorry." Pulling back so she could look at him properly, Carol sighed and tried to reason out what she wanted to say. "Daryl, I'm not exactly young anymore. The chances of getting pregnant at all are pretty low, but if it happened, I'd deal with it. I don't want to think about it and start hoping and wishing, either way. If it happens, I'll be happy, I promise. If it doesn't, I'll still be happy. I just want to be happy with you. Is that okay?"

He answered with a kiss that almost burned her lips off, ravaging her mouth, tongue flickering and darting against her teeth, her lips, her tongue until she was so confused and frenzied to catch him up that she was almost whimpering with the fever of it.

By the time she thought she was catching up, he tore his mouth away, his wicked tongue discovering new paths down her neck and across her chest until he was consuming her breasts and he was pushing her back onto the bed. Her head hit the pillow the second his mouth latched hold of her nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue. Carol arched her back, hands searching for him so she could pull him down on top of her, needing to know flesh on flesh and the heat that always blistered between them.

A delighted cry escaped her when the busy fingers from one hand started to make sweet circles between her legs, gathering up a slick of moisture to dampen her clit, eliciting more so that he could tease her into senselessness. Sensation ramped up even further when his mouth abandoned her breasts and seemed to lick a path down her abdomen, swirling around her bellybutton before completing his objective to catch her swollen nub between his lips. Carol writhed beneath him, loving his tongue as it swept and licked at her trembling walls, nipping occasionally at the flesh of her inner thighs then seizing back to her clit until she was panting and writhing helplessly on the bed.

She exploded on his tongue, her body compulsively riding the thing that gave her so much pleasure and before the soaked, heavy feeling abated, he pulled back and pushed his rigid length deep inside her, Carol stretching accommodatingly around him.

"Daryl." His name was a prayer on her lips, a litany leading to an eruption of words steeped in kindness and love. He was kissing her deeply, pumping frenetically into her, his big hand grasping at her hip so he could manipulate her position, angle his thrusts better, and then suddenly he slowed, his hand relaxing and finding purchase at her thigh as it curled over his ass, his lips seeking some kind of solace from her that he'd never asked for before. She felt herself tightening around him, a shimmering euphoria breaking free and Carol cried out, tearing away from his mouth and laughing with pure delight as he buried his face against her neck and continued to pump into her. Her walls fluttered around his cock and she felt every single inch, reacted to every vibration with an arch in her back and a whimper on her lips. At last he popped, her physical reaction spurring him on until with an erotic vibration he came, splashing her cervix with his seed. He held himself still above her, his chest heaving from exertion, and he bestowed a loving kiss on her cheek before rubbing his lips softly against hers.

"Hmmmm, didja like that, Buttercup?" He smirked, tucking his face into his chest as his body gave in to the need for collapse, snuggling in to her for all he was worth.

Winding her arms around him and hugging him tight, Carol nibbled on his ear, blowing his wispy hair out of her face when it got stuck to her lips. "I've maybe had better," she teased. "That tree was hard to beat."

"Maybe I need to try again." He was already trekking his pointy finger up over her ribs and to her breast, his lust-filled eyes almost obliterating her senses.

Carol grinned, looking all dreamy. "Oh, Pookie, I was hoping you were going to say that."

The End

And I mean it this time! I hope I didn't ruin the original end for you by adding this.


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